


Young and Beautiful

by NotoriousHRC



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Children, Drama, F/M, Family, Family Feels, How it all began, Humor, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy, Prologue, Romance, Rose Video, Sunrise Bay, careers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28833633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotoriousHRC/pseuds/NotoriousHRC
Summary: The prologue of the young, rich, and beautiful lives of Johnny and Moira Rose; how they met, married, and grew the Rose family before landing themselves in Schitt's Creek. Let's take a deep dive into who these people are and how they developed into the wonderful characters we know and love.
Relationships: Johnny Rose/Moira Rose
Comments: 133
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, all to Young and Beautiful! This story will be about 15 chapters and about 22K words when finished. I have most of the story done and will be able to maintain daily updates until the end.
> 
> This is my first time writing a Schitt's Creek story, so any and all comments are soooo appreciated! I'd also love to hear any additional prompt recommendations for additional stories.
> 
> Thanks so much and enjoy!

1970

It was raining as the 1954 Ford rolled along the dirt road kicking up new mud onto the already caked hub caps. The clouded headlights did their best to break through the misery depicted outside and give light to any other moving vehicles. Although, there was no need to watch for other cars. There was none to be found on this night. Everyone was safely and smartly staying inside. All except for the rust-colored 1954 Ford with its driver and passenger.

With the sound of the radio on low and the tinny rain on the roof, the driver focused on the road without appearing to over concentrate. He had a reputation to uphold and didn’t want his passenger to question his driving skills, even in this horrid weather. He was, in fact, supposed to be the expert. Though he only admitted to himself how only in a town that size would his level of skill give him a job as a driving instructor. He knew he wouldn’t be staying long. He was used to the drifter lifestyle. And less than a year after he arrived, he found himself again on the open road. Only this time, he wasn’t alone.

The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes crinkled as he blinked to wake up. His nose sniffed, sucking in a whiff of the damp air mixed with the musty smell of a 16 year old car. Their trip had only just begun, but he was ready to stop for a rest. They had to leave in the middle of the night at her request. But that didn’t align well with his own schedule. He was tired, yes. But his ulterior motives were no secret; Find a cheap motel along the side of the road. Take a room, one room, one bed. Grab a few beers, a few for her and even more for him. Go to sleep… eventually. Then get up the next day and move onward, wherever the road might take them.

These thoughts crossed through his mind again as he told himself to hold off for at least a few more hours. With one hand firmly on the wheel, he casually raised his other to scratch the side of his face through the umber scruff that grew on his cheeks and chin. His mind was too occupied to notice the sign they passed, ‘Town Limit.’

The passenger noticed the sign and breathed a sign of utter relief as it disappeared behind them. She was out. And she was never going back. 

Her physicality didn’t show the importance of the milestone event that just occurred. Her legs remained bent at the knees as her stocking feet rested casually against the dashboard. Her slumped shoulders curled into the back of the worn seat, her upper arms showing as the plaid felt jacket fell around her elbows and the pink sleeveless turtleneck peeked through. 

In full repose, she rested her head in the palm of her hand as her chin turned to follow the sign behind them. The long locks of golden hair covered the sides of her face, only allowing for her aqua orbs to take in the sight of the places she’s been.

Her head untwisted from its glance and came back to center, looking at the fogy and wet road ahead of her. Her mind was suddenly blank. It was no longer fixated on whether she packed enough dresses or if she should have stolen another pair of her sister’s shoes. She was no longer worried about how her mother would react when she woke up the next morning to find her oldest daughter gone. Any apprehensions she had about what the future held for her suddenly melted away and only the open road stretched ahead of her. 

This was her journey, her new chapter. Yes, there was someone else in the car sitting beside her, but they would only be mutually beneficial for a short time. He would get what he came for, and she, what she came for. And that would be it.

Where would she go? She couldn’t possibly answer that question because there were too many possible answers. ‘It will feel right when I’m there,’ she kept telling herself. She had become very good at internalizing the self-confidence she projected.

What would she do to support herself? She wasn’t as worried about that as she should have been. She had skills, lots of them. One of them was sure to be lucrative enough to sustain her. And if her practical skills didn’t get her anywhere, she could always fall back on her looks. She was, after all, Miss Snow Cone, 1970. 

What was her life goal? Her life goal was to have a life. And this was the first time she felt like that aim was actually achievable. 

Her reverie was broken. She heard him clear his throat. 

“You cold?” he asked, looking at her curled position from the corner of his eye.

Her head shook once as her eyes glazed over. “I’m fine.”

Another delightful silence descended. Her toes curled as her hips shifted further into the seat. The song on the radio changed. She found her lips pressing together as they hummed along to the melody. Her eyes closed gently as her head tilted back.

“When do you want to stop?”

Her eyes opened again and her head rolled to glance at her partner’s profile. “Not yet,” she sighed as she rolled her head back. “I want to get as far away as pos-si-ble.” She drew out the last word with a purse of her lips. 

“You think someone will come after you?”

Her eyebrows came together as she felt a chuckle build in her throat. “No,” she scoffed. “That’s not it.” 

He didn’t respond but gave her a moment to continue.

And she did. Her voice tasted of lead as she uttered her mantra of the last six years. “I needed to get out. I was dying there.” She felt her spine stiffen in determination as she uttered a promise to herself. “And I’m never going back.”

“And now what?” He asked as he squinted into the darkness.

Now what? Moira couldn’t even begin to predict. Her lips curled up in delightful suspense.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all who left me a note! I will definitely be responding to all comments! Keep them coming! They make it much easier to continue writing!
> 
> I should also mention that I am keeping this as true to canon as my memory lets me and there will be much more dialogue in the upcoming chapters.
> 
> Enjoy!

1975

This pitch had gone well. Really well. He had done enough of these through his emerging career to feel confident in making a valid judgment. 

He had seen his share of pitches implode and experienced it first hand more times he could count. It was his fault in the beginning, even he had to admit that. They asked questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, he flubbed more than a few of his proposed financials, and he arrived 15 minutes late; a mistake he would never make again. But, he also had his fair share of stories where the unprofessionalism was on the other side of the board room table. There was that one venture capitalist firm where the CEO was obviously hungover as he tried to sell him on the idea of a retail video store. That was a meeting he wouldn’t soon forget.

But this one was good. He could tell he was on his game as the first words came out of his mouth, ‘How would you like to make a couple of million dollars by Christmas?’ Their eyes were open and their ears were attuned. 

His pitch was solid. As it should be by now, he had presented it 15 times to 15 different potential stakeholders only to receive 15 rejections. But he was no quitter. He decided after the first 10 rejections that he must have been born with an undying sense of optimism because where many others would call it quits, he only refueled and pressed on. It was his belief in himself and what he was capable of that produced that spring in his step once again as he walked into the first floor of the New York City skyscraper earlier that day. 

This one felt like something special. He held the audience through the half-hour spiel. And the questions they asked were intuitive, direct, and certainly from a shared knowledge base. He felt confident in his ability to address their concerns and highlight the potentials for their company and for the general public. He even caught them reading his prepared briefing material as he left them to deliberate. Miracles do happen! Their gold cufflinks shined as they turned a page, designer shoes were propped on perfectly tailored pant legs, and the expensive jewelry that sparkled in the light could finance his venture on its own.

These were his kind of people. Or he wanted them to be.

$2,000 and a dream. He already saved that in his mind as the line he would use years from now when he was sitting on top as the world's most successful video retail store owner. Only in this exact moment, in the lobby of a formidable office in the financial district, he only had $372 left. The rest of the capital was extremely useful to carry him from city to city, meeting to meeting, disappointment to disappointment. 

This couldn’t be another disappointment. It couldn’t be.

This lobby was just as nice as every other he had been in. Walking out of the elevator onto the 65th floor, he casually walked by the exquisitely decorated lobby area featuring a large brown leather sofa with two massive matching armchairs. The floor was tiled and reflective of the dark wood paneling on the walls and on the ceiling. The intricately carved trim suggested someone put a lot of money into making this obviously new build look like a well established and aged firm. He brought one foot in front of the other past the sitting area and towards the high mahogany reception desk. Looking ahead, he could clearly see outside the floor to ceiling windows and gazed with awe at the midday city skyline. Buildings as far as the eye could see and the East River in the distance. A view he could get used to.

He announced himself and was told they were ready for him. The receptionist led him to the conference room doors where he found his future calling.

And now, here he was back in the lobby area sitting on that brown leather couch staring at those conference room doors, waiting. Honestly, he found that he appreciated the immediate feedback. He didn’t mind waiting half an hour to give the board time to discuss. It was worse to leave right away and wait for weeks in anticipation of a phone call. 

No, this was better. Then he would know whether his next destination was Penn Station to catch the 8:00 train out of the city or whether he would be dining with his new business partners.

His heel tapped against the sparkling white tiled floor, the sound pulsing through the serene space. The receptionist had already given him two crooked smiles, amused at his audible nerves and conveying compassion for his plight. He grinned back with his lips pressed together, suppressing the urge to engage in nervous babbling. It was best if he waited quietly.

He unbuttoned his suit coat so it fell better as he leaned forward, sitting on the edge of his seat. The brown, double-breasted suit he wore was his first big purchase after his college graduation and before setting out on his tour. The suit was certainly not cheap. He made sure to look the part even if he wasn’t quite in the show yet. It had yet to bring him any luck.

His elbows rested on his knees as his fingers folded into each other. He found from experience that he needed to keep his hands busy or else they tended to move towards his hair. They would fix an imaginary loose strand or run across his temple to fluff the sides of his puffed do. No matter what they did, they always messed up the look he styled in the morning. And if there was one thing he believed in, it was the persuasive power of an immaculate hairstyle.

His eyes, weighted down with an extra pound of brows, scanned from that incredible cityscape to the folio on the coffee table in front of him. The folio that held all his hopes and dreams. 

Speaking of hopes and dreams… The conference room door opened.

“Mr. Rose.”

He was on his feet before the woman even uttered her first syllable. But it was her next sentence that had his eyes widen and his face freeze as if struck dumb.

“Congratulations. It appears we have a lot to discuss.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who sent comments! I love hearing your thoughts!
> 
> We're back to Moira in this chapter! Enjoy!

1979

The glow of the dimming lights fell upon the empty stage. Soft, backlighting rolled down from the ceiling, hitting the audience as it eventually centered on the floor. Patrons squinted as the blue lights blanketed them. The black scrim blended into the black foreground, a completely blank canvass. The hues from the lights turned to red as a beat started, a steady tempo from the percussion section mixed with the swing of the saxophone. 

The scrim peeled back. A figure emerged from dead center, strutting heel first as the clink of the shoes added to the beat. Her legs crossed as her swagger continued, black stocking hugging every curve of her calves up to her thighs. Garter straps barely visible as they disappeared under the wide-legged shorts. Her swiveling waist was cinched by the pinstriped vest. The deep v of the vest allowed for the black lacy piece she wore underneath to show. 

On her next step, she flicked her right wrist before tiptoeing her fingertips up her left arm and across her shoulder. Her head tilted to meet her shoulder, dark brown ringlets sweeping as she moved. Her eyes appeared from under their blackened, hooded lashes, timed with the shaky exhale that kept her in character and gave her the confidence to part her cherry red lips as she hit center stage. Single spotlight.

_Maybe this time, I'll be lucky_   
_Maybe this time, he'll stay_

Sally Bowels held out the last note, a progression from the tuned speaking she began with. Her eye fixated on that one spot in the back of the theater, voice low and breathy. 

_Maybe this time_   
_For the first time_   
_Love won’t hurry away_

Sally tilted her chin as she raised both arms in front, tapping into her potential as her voice melted into the orchestra.

_He will hold me fast_   
_I'll be home at last._

Home… For a moment, just a moment, the character was broken and the actress stepped out. 

Home, yes. This was home.

It happened in the flash of a second as the lighting changed again from red to a soft purple. Instead of staring at that dot in the back of the theater, the early career of Moira Magill flashed before her eyes. The scene of her finally arriving in a small town outside of New York City, waving farewell to her provisional lover as he drove onwards. Visions of a young girl mastering the bus route to be in the heart of the city as much as her minimal paycheck would allow. Nightly contemplations of what her next move would be. Did she want to be working as a waitress in a half-decent deli for the rest of her life? The answer to that was… no. Moira Magill had higher aspirations. 

_Not a loser anymore_   
_Like the last time_   
_And the time before._

She was scraping by with the tips she earned as a deli clerk at a road stop outside New York City when her world shifted forever. A man came through the door. Nothing remarkably special about him, fairly typical to her attuned eyes that had become remarkably accustomed to watching men enter and leave the building day in and day out. He asked for a Ruben.

Rocky Nickels, the name she would forever associate with salvation. If she was honest with herself, she didn't aspire to be an actress. She simply aspired to be something, something other than who she was. It was Rocky who gave her what she had been looking for. She thanked whatever gods brought him into the deli that night to order a sandwich and tip her with his directorial wisdom and a calling card. He was preparing to direct a regional production of the John Kander musical, Cabaret. What he initially saw in the girl behind the deli counter, she didn’t know. He handed her an audition flyer. She would never forget his parting words that echoed in her mind long after that front door shut behind him. “You’ve got something in you that I think deserves to be set free.”

Sally Bowels was born that night, but that also marked the rebirth of Moira Magill.

_Everybody loves a winner_   
_So nobody loves me_   
_'Lady Peaceful', 'Lady Happy, '_   
_That's what I long to be._

Moira Magill released the Sally Bowels that lived within her. It was the most freeing, out of body moment she had ever experienced. 

Moira Magill could be anybody she wanted to be. She was moldable, flexible. She could reinvent herself with something as simple as a hairpiece. She could be confident if she projected enough confidence. She could be a paragon if she gave the people something to emulate. She could find adoration from the masses if she gave them something to love. And she would. That night Moira Magill would give them everything she had.

_All the odds are in my favor_   
_Something's bound to give in,_

Her voice grew as she reached for the high note, arms steeling at her sides as the fire lit within her belly and flamed for all to see. 

_It's got to happen, happen sometime_   
_Maybe this time I'll win._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who sent me a note! We are back with Johnny's point of view. I hope you like this chapter where our characters are in the same room together for the first time! This scene will be continued in chapter 5. 
> 
> Enjoy!

1980

Sixteen always seems to be his lucky number. That was how many pitches it took before he finally got seed money for what had become Rose Video, his quickly expanding brainchild that was proving extremely lucrative. And now, store number 16 was the first one to open in the great state of New York and the first of his planned 20 to open throughout New York City in the upcoming months. Now, he was swimming in the big pond.

Rose Videos began popping up on the East Coast, first two in Canada and then five in Massachusetts and Connecticut. He thought he hit it big when the first one came to Boston. But that was nothing compared to this new collection. The initial agreement signed the deal for 20 in the Big Apple with an understanding they would reconnect sometime next year to renegotiate and expand as optimal. 

So store 16 was a milestone for many reasons and there was no way he was going to miss out on the opening event. Even if it did mean he had to drive through the infamous New York City traffic all the way up Manhattan to the Upper East Side. Even after leaving 15 minutes early, he missed the initial ribbon-cutting and photo op, but he was just in time to throw down his credit card at the town bar where the local stakeholders gathered to celebrate this achievement. 

It was a classy bar, even for the boushy Upper East Side. There was plenty of space and the colored up-lighting created a fun, exciting vibe. The piano music trilled its keys as champagne glasses were distributed by coat-tailed waiters and drunk in large quantities. There was also a bar all along the far right wall for additional cocktail orders or a line of shots to be served if required. The room was certainly crowded. There were about 30 people who had gathered at the grand opening event and then traveled over to the after-party and that number only increased as more people joined, including a few invited celebrities his publicist wrangled into coming with the promise of free drinks.

As he took a moment to observe the scene, he spotted a few of the named celebrities, including someone with the last name of Kennedy, Joni Mitchell’s agent, and John Cougar. He felt his lips turn up in a gleeful smile at the sight of everyone sharing in his merriment. 

“Congratulations, Johnny!” 

He felt someone come up beside him and grab his hand in a firm shake.

“Thank you, Tom,” he answered, appreciating the accolades from his publicist as the man walked back towards the bar to fill up his drink.

As Tom turned to slide past a few other guests, a blonde wisp of hair caught his eye.

A girl, a woman, tilted her chin back in bubbly laughter that left her locks shake elegantly down her back. She donned a sparkled gold long-sleeved dress that cut off at her mid-thigh and went all the way up her neck. The dress fit tight on the top and flared at the waist into an a-line. She wore black tights and what appeared to be chunky patterned shoes as her feet shuffled to her toes and then back to her heels.

His eyes went back to her face, her glorious smile spread across porcelain skin, and her eyes crinkled with a joy that was mesmerizing. Her countenance was exquisite. 

He shuffled to his right when another party-goer blocked his view. He was now looking at her from behind and had a better view of the group she was chatting up. They too seemed delighted by her presence and animated in conversation. He watched as she raised her champagne glass to her lips and took a healthy sip.

His eyes were only temporarily sidetracked as he saw his publicist come back around with a full glass. “Tom,” he called, his hand gesturing the man over.

Tom strode the rest of the way before leaning his ear closer to Johnny.

“Who’s the blonde with the champagne?” Johnny asked in an awkward whisper as his eyebrows gestured towards his current interest.

Tom took a look before turning back to the man. “Moira Magill, the girl who cut the ribbon.”

Moira Magill. That name was vaguely familiar. He remembered Tom throwing around names he was trying to get at the opening ceremony. 

His eyebrows crossed. “What does she do?”

Tom took a sip of his scotch and shrugged. “Played Sally Bowels in a regional production of Cabaret last year. My friend Rocky Nickels was really pushing for her. She’s the best we could get at the last minute, but apparently a big up and comer.”

He didn’t realize he was still looking at her, his lip between his teeth, but Tom did.

“She’s pretty,” he intoned as he grinned, glancing between Johnny and his current infatuation.

Johnny broke his gaze as he shuffled his feet and brought his attention back to Tom. “I didn’t notice.”

The publicist knew that was utter bullshit. A peal of boisterous laughter rang out from her direction. “Got a good sense of humor too.”

Johnny took a gulp of his champagne to pretend he wasn’t listening.

Tom put himself back in his bumbling friend’s sightline as he shared an important bit of information. “I heard her asking her friend who was the eyebrows buying drinks.” 

Johnny heard what the other man said, but the sentence was soon moot as he looked above Tom’s head at the stir near the dark entrance. Tom hadn’t noticed the other woman entering the bar, obviously running late by the way her dark hair toppled to the side as she rushed in the door frame. The woman wore a fur-lined coat over her party dress, complimented by heavy and colorful makeup. She drew her chin as high as it could reach, attempting to weave through the sea of people. Johnny raised his arm with a grin, waving the new patron nearer. Her eyes lit up as they finally met Johnny’s.

“You wanna meet her?” Tom continued, focused on the blonde and oblivious to the other man’s reckoning.

Johnny’s mindset had shifted, waiting with anticipation as a familiar set of youthful brown eyes made their way over to him with outstretched arms.

“No, I don’t think so.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all who left notes! I know you've been looking forward to this chapter, a continuation of last chapter's scene from Moira's perspective.
> 
> Enjoy!

1980 Continued...

He caught her eye almost immediately. Even before she knew he was their host and the star of the evening. There was something about him. He wasn't the exuberant life of the party type that demanded attention and received it. No, that was not why her eyes fixated on him. He wasn't a wallflower either, else she might never have noticed his presence to the side of the bar as he lay down his black card to the bartender. 

It certainly had something to do with his looks, the way he dressed. His dark hair was fluffed and styled to perfection atop a sculpted face with the most prominent eyebrows she had ever seen. It might have been comical on someone else, but she immediately decided it added to the depth of his features. His dark, sunken in eyes held a mystery to them as they narrowed to view the contents of his drink. 

She watched the crease between his eyebrows deepen as a broad grin lit up his face, obviously enjoying whatever conversation he was engaged in. His animated hands danced, visually interpreting whatever comical tale he was regaling. She couldn't help but notice the exquisite cut of his tailor-made gray suit and the silver cufflinks that pulled the outfit together. 

There was a moment where someone came over his shoulder to shake his hand, a congratulatory gesture she assumed he deserved. She was almost caught in her ogling, but quickly rejoined the small group she was congregating with. His eyes did a sweep of the room and she just managed to turn before he reached her. 

The rest of the group broke into boisterous laughter, and she joined in. She felt someone squeeze behind her as she turned to the closest acquaintance she had made at the party so far. 

“Who's the eyebrows buying the drinks?” She managed to whisper without drawing attention. 

Her new girlfriend didn't need any further descriptive information to know who she was discussing. “Johnny Rose. Owner of Rose Video.”

“Ah,” Moira exhaled as she added that piece of information to her knowledge base. “The executive who missed his own opening.” 

The friend raised a brow as she nursed her drink. “The kid’s new to city traffic. What can I say?”

Well, that was a sentiment she could understand perfectly. She straightened her spine as her head tilted, appearing to casually sweep the room.

“And is he…” Her words disappeared into the space where all insignificant phrases flew. 

She only caught the end of it, but that was more than a friendly smooch of a greeting Mr. Rose received from the brunette in the fur coat that entered the picture. And it appeared he was giving just as much as he was taking.

“Of course he isn’t,” she uttered under her breath as her gaze flew to the ceiling. Her wave of disappointment lasted but a second before she was able to recompose herself. “That’s one more reason to have another drink.”

She flagged down the closest waiter with full champagne flutes and swapped out her empty one. It looked like she needed to find another target to satisfy her evening’s aims. 

Three glasses later, she found herself in a dark corner with a placeholder who considered himself a singer. What was his name again? John Cougar Cantaloupe or something?

Her lips felt like rubber as they continue to press against his, aggressively trying to make this feel right. She felt the hem of her skirt hike up as her arms reached around her partner's neck and as his hands wondered about her lower extremities. Her chest pressed even closer to his. She felt his breath against the side of her face as he broke their lip lock, his parted mouth traveling across her cheek, down her jaw, and around the side of her neck. She stretched her chin as her eyes fluttered shut, a hum murmured deep in her throat. 

She felt the pinch, a sharp needle-like sensation against her nape. Her eyes shot open as her hands grasped and shoved the man's shoulders. Why it took that relatively harmless nip to break her from her trance, she didn't know. But she was out of it now.

His head lulled back, face in a smolder, as his fingertips came to stroke her hairline. “Wanna get out of here, honey?”

Her breathing was still heavy as she took half a step backward, leading her right into the back wall. She felt her eyes narrow as they took him in, or as they took this whole situation in. She bit her lip, rubbing off even more of the rusty color onto her teeth. 

“No,” she muttered, drawing out the word. “I don’t think so.”

And with that, she slipped under his arm to stagger back into the throngs of the lingering party. Party was a generous term for the few stragglers who were left after the clock struck 4 am. The woman she was speaking with earlier was nowhere to be found. She made a mental note to never trust that flighty thing to have her back. 

It didn’t take her long to determine there was nothing more she could gain here, so she managed, on shaky legs, to find her way to the exit. A cool gust greeted her as the nighttime air gave her a much needed pick me up. The lights in the city that never slept were strangely elusive that night. Although, how much light could one expect from a restaurant in the quiet Upper East Side. She knew she should have left earlier, she told herself she would. It would have been much easier to flag a cab at midnight than at 4 am. But she only had herself to blame. 

Stepping up to the curb, she straightened her dress as her arms crossed against her chest, doing what she could to guard herself against the nip in the air as she stared down 102nd street for a yellow coated automobile. 

The slam of the bar door made her upper body turn back as the man stepped onto the sidewalk and froze on the spot.

What an interesting position she found herself in, and a fun opportunity. Her lips curled between her teeth as she shook her arms to her sides, taking an alcohol-laden confident strut towards her companion. “Mr. Rose.”

He looked more than flustered as his hand slid out of his coat pocket and stretched to meet her. “Hello, Miss Magill,” he grinned as she offered her hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to introduce myself earlier but…”

“Let me guess,” she tilted her head with an amused smirk. “You were busy with… something.”

“No, well…” He was surprised by her suggestive response and hid it poorly. “I mean… I was, but…”

His fluster delighted her for some reason. “No need to apologize, Mr. Rose. I saw where your attention was focused this evening.”

He took a pause, trying to understand what she was getting at before she interrupted him. “No, I don’t think you do know…”

“And I’m sure there were others whose congratulations you decided to bask in rather than do the decent thing and introduce yourself to your celebrity patron.”

His eyes grew three sizes as he tried to explain himself. “I was going to introduce myself, but…”

“But what?” She asked as she glanced back toward the empty street for a split second.

His hands flung up and down through the air. “… You seemed to have someone else in your sights.” 

Her jaw hung open as she contemplated that one. “Oh,” she finally uttered. “I see.” Why did she feel a wave of embarrassment at being caught by Mr. Johnny Rose in a dark corner with another man?

“But now we’ve met…” His arms gestured between the two of them before sinking back into his coat pockets, his face masking relaxation. “And I think this is going… really well.”

“I concur.” She didn’t need to think before responding absolutely honestly. Against her will, her eyes found themselves locked oh his, with no key to be found. “Yes, Mr. Rose, I do believe this is going rather well.”

She watched as his eyes became just as occupied as hers. Just as unexpectedly enamored. His mouth opened, she waited for something to come out, for him to say something. But it slowly closed, allowing the silence to shroud. 

The quiet should have made it opportune for her to hear the cab drive near, but it didn’t. The sound finally reached her ears a split second too late.

Turning on a dime, she ran towards the back of the speeding car. “Fuck…” she muttered under her breath as her mouth hung open and her arms slumped back to her side.

“You need a ride?”

Her head turned back to the voice. “Yes, that is the general idea when hailing a cab.”

“Yeah, I know that…” he started slowly. “I just meant that…” 

While he was searching for his words, she turned to fully face Mr. Johnny Rose once again.

“I can give you a ride. I have a car.”

She pretended to think. “I’m not sure I trust you.”

He seemed to take her hesitation as a fault of his own. His hands started waving at twice their flustrated speed. “I assure you my intentions are honorable.”

“No, it’s not that,” she quickly assuaged him before revealing her actual mock concern. “The fact that you didn’t make it on time for your own store opening does not bode well for your driving abilities.”

She watched his sweet, round face soften as he finally processed her teasing. “Care to take a chance.” His hand extended in a gentlemanly gesture. 

She accepted. “I suppose I will.”

The walk to the garage wasn’t long. They waited on the curb until the attendant drove out in a black 1979 Camaro. She noticed he was watching her as the car pulled up beside them.

“And this is yours, Mr. Rose?” She questioned, running a single digit across the hood as she moved to the passenger side. 

“It is.” He opened his door and slid into the driver’s seat. “As long as I keep up the rental payments.”

They continued their conversation as she closed her door and he pulled them into the traffic lane.

She flipped a lock of hair over her left shoulder to catch his peripheral. “And the video retail stores are allowing those car payments to be made in full!” It was more of an exclamation than a question.

“Yes, they are,” he reported proudly.

She liked that look on him. “I’ll tell you Mr. Rose, I was very impressed with the new store that opened today.”

That was just the right thing to say to keep that look of extreme satisfaction on his chilled face. “Oh really,” he proclaimed, his voice raising an octave or two.

“I was,” she nodded, her head still feeling the effects of the champagne bubbles as she articulated her next thought. “The aesthetics and environment promised a pleasurable rental experience.”

If it was even possible, his smile grew. “Thank you. That…” he paused. “Means a lot.” 

She felt her lip involuntarily quiver as she took him in. 

“Where am I going?”

She gave him directions to her shared apartment in the West Village. Making their way down Manhattan, she regaled him with elaborated tales from her myriad of jobs from sweeping hair to hand modeling and ending with a particularly humorous memory from her last performance of Cabaret. The stories were made all the more humorous by the way she slurred some of the words and the bursts of raving laughter that erupted sporadically. 

Her state was not lost on him. 

“How many glasses did you have?” He asked as she came down from another spurt. 

“How is that any of your business?” She defended in a mock-serious voice. 

“I’m just curious,” he shrugged. “How much of this is you and how much is the booze.”

She rolled her eyes at his ridiculous question. “Oh, it’s all me Mr. Rose. I have to be much more inebriated before I really bare my full self to a stranger.”

“Oh really.” He questioned skeptically. “You have more fascinating stories than breaking into a Rolling Stones concert through their dressing room window?”

The left side of her face scrunched together as she challenged his doubt. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” Her hands pressed into her lap as she cocked her head. “I’ll be sure to telephone next time I’m really drunk to regale you.”

Next time. She wished she didn’t say that the moment it came out of her mouth. She didn’t regret it completely, but she learned from his expression that he wasn’t ready to hear those words. Instead, she focused her eyes ahead and changed the subject.

“You drive splendidly, Mr. Rose,” she complimented in her low voice.

He let his lips curl up at the sides. “I’m glad you approve.” A pause. “And it’s Johnny.”

She responded. “Moira.”

He repeated, his voice hitting every syllable, like velvet across bare skin. “Moira.”

She didn’t have time to indulge in his inflection. “Johnny,” she called to get his attention.

“Hum?”

“This is my stop.” She pointed to the front of a brownstone on the right side.

“Oh, right.” It was as if he had forgotten what his mission was. He hit the breaks and double-parked right where she pointed.

This was it. She turned her upper body to fully face her driver, a gracious grin painted on her porcelain face. “Until we meet again, Johnny Rose. And thank you.”

His left hand came up to scratch the back of his ear. “Yeah, I guess we might bump into each other again sometime.” The drawn-out sentence ended with a hesitation that tugged at that emotive thing in her chest even more. “Right?”

Her spine straightened, chin protruded forward. It was as if his pause had only fueled her certainty. 

“Oh, I know we will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what we know about how they met...
> 
> Moira helped open one of his stores  
> Johnny was dating someone at the time  
> Moira asked, "Whos the eyebrows buying drinks?"  
> Moira had a moment in the corner with John Cougar Mellencamp but Johnny was the one who drove her home  
> She knew he was the one and waited for him for over a year
> 
> I'm happy with how I pieced all these facts together into this chapter and hope you liked it as well!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks for your comments! We are jumping ahead one year in our timeline for this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

1981

He saw her more than a few times since that first night. A holiday gathering hosted by some New York producer, a luncheon for an old friend of his where she came as a plus one, and they even managed the impossible; running into each other at JFK where they were both off to faraway places. He almost didn’t recognize her with the two different wigs she donned on two different occasions. But it was her.

In their brief encounters, he learned about her new endeavor; stepping into the lead role of a promising soap opera called ‘Sunrise Bay’. He clearly remembered her dramatic pronunciation of the title. So he wasn’t surprised when a few months later he turned on the television to see her face in an auburn wig. 

He wasn’t the soap opera genera’s target market, but he watched the rest of her scene. She looked good. She was good. She was also harder to run into after that. 

It took a few months before he saw her again. A few very busy months that filled his days with thoughts other than Moira Magill. This year was certainly proving prosperous for Rose Video. Johnny Rose’s networks were opening wide, perfectly represented by the event he found himself at that night. 

It was an invite-only New York gallery opening. Very exclusive. Only the best champagne, a taste he found himself indulging in all the more frequently. The classiest mood music provided by the string quartet adorned in black evening wear. And only the who’s who of society in attendance. And so it came as no surprise that he finally set eyes on daytime television’s rising star as she studied a piece. 

In profile, she looked exactly as he remembered her. Her hair was a bit shorter and more fluffed than before— no wig tonight— but her attire was just as dazzling; a completely sequined jumpsuit in shimmering black with flowing sleeves. Her makeup was heavier than last time, eyes painted darker with some blue shadows and lips a bright pop of burnt orange. 

He was able to excuse himself from a tiresome conversation to make his way silently to her side. 

“What do you think of this one?” He asked as he widened his stance, anchoring himself beside her.

He didn’t turn his head from the painting, but he could feel her move beside him. It took a moment before she turned back to the painting. “I think…” she began slowly. “The young ingénue has much to learn in terms of shading and sculpture.” 

Why did it seem that she always left him unbalanced with the flick of her tongue? “What does that mean?” He questioned, his eyebrows coming closer together to try and see what she saw.

“It means exactly what I said,” she defended in her soft lilt.

Instead of analyzing the piece, he analyzed the price tag beside it. “That young ingénue is selling this piece for fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Yes,” she immediately responded, flippantly pointing to a piece along the back wall. “But that piece is selling for one hundred thousand.”

He followed her direction to find, in his opinion, an equally abstract quagmire.

“I may not know artistic theory, Johnny.” The use of his name finally brought his eyes to hers. “But I do know money.”

His mouth opened. It was his turn to speak, to say something. So then why was nothing was coming out? It could have been the glass of champagne he had already consumed, but he knew he couldn't blame this on the liquor. No. It was her. The entirety of her. Her soft voice like liquid gold, the way her humor dripped through each tale she spun. Her mind and her soul. She was bewitching. And under her spell, he remained at her side the entirety of the evening.

It was late, too late when the group they had congregated with disbursed and the waiter made his final rounds. 

“Another drink?” Johnny commented as Moira switched out her empty for a full.

“It heightens my personality,” she insisted as she took a sip.

He joined her in one last glass. “Not that you’re lacking any personality to begin with.”

She smiled at that. “No, I don’t think I am.”

Their eyes met in another moment. Those moments seemed to be a frequent occurrence through the night. Moments where he was struck dumb and she appeared to be contently contemplating. 

Her head dipped before raising an interesting statement. “I have an inquiry to make, but I do believe it would make me seem impertinent.” 

His head cocked as he shifted his weight, distributing it evenly between his two feet.

Her nose scrunched as her left hand circled around her own head. “The brunette with the… hair and the lips.”

“An apt description,” he said taking another drink as he caught her drift.

“She was with you at your grand opening and with you at the holiday function.” She took a pause, tapping her glass with her cocktail ring. “Yet the last time I saw you, there was no plus one.”

He swallowed before confirming, taking a split second to delight in her confirmed interest. “That is correct. There is no plus one.”

“And you,” he gestured to her with his scotch tumbler. “I clearly remember bearing witness to some serious…” He paused as he tried to think of the right word. “Heavy petting in that bar corner.”

“Oh that,” she shrugged it off. “That was never anything.”

His eyebrows rose. If that was her definition of nothing… “Sure looked like something.”

Her lips smacked as she took another sip, eyes bright as she shifted her weight to her right side, moving closer to him to reveal her secret. “I made my signature move on him.”

A move… she has a move? “You have a move?”

An impish gleam took over her countenance as she began using her entire body to explain. “I lock eyes with a man from across the room.” She pretended to find a fish in the crowded room. “Never breaking my gaze or gate, I walk, one foot in front of the other, larghetto.” She raised a finger and pressed it into his upper arm. “I reach out a single digit and trace it down the center of his back.” Her demonstration drew her finger down his arm all the way to his wrist.

He knew he wasn’t good at hiding his reaction to her action. He cleared his throat, voice struggling. “Okay.” 

“If he follows me into a dark corner,” she continued. “I know it’s meant to be.”

“And…” he paused. “It worked for you that night?”

“It did.” She took a moment to let her fixated smile grow. “I knew something was meant to be that night. And it had nothing to do with Mr. John… Cougar… Mellencamp.”

“Three names, that’s pretentious.” The glass found its way to his lips again.

“Exceedingly.” She shook her head in agreement before taking her own sip. 

He felt hot, his face must have had a pinkish tint by now. Somehow, in the middle of this indirect conversation, he knew exactly what she meant. Knew exactly where they stood with each other.

“Moira…” His voice deepened.

“Yes, Johnny?” She let his name roll from her tongue.

He licked his bottom lip. “Could I get a ride home?”

She didn’t seem surprised by his off-topic question. “What no rental car to support your travels?” She teased playfully.

“Well, it didn’t really make sense to keep a car when I’m traveling so much.”

“Are you still based out of this Big Apple?” She inquired. 

“I am, but I spend about half my time on the road these days.”

“What, more stores to open?”

He answered by puffing his chest out, standing at his full height. “It’s a quickly expanding enterprise. Next month we’ll have over 100 stores in 20 states.”

“Including California?” She wasn’t hiding her reason for asking. Her not so secret reason was written all over her face in the way her brow raised and she kept her eyes flirty. “Do you frequently find yourself passing through Los An-ge-les?”

“Not frequently, I would say.” His gaze lowered to his shoes before raising again, taking her in from under his hooded eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t make a separate trip.”

A burst of heat suddenly shot through his hand and immediately traveled through every last vein in his body. He looked down. Her flawless hand cupped his, fingers lacing around his palm as she gave it a delicate squeeze. 

“My answer is yes, I think… I would be happy to share my cab with you.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who leave a note! I so enjoy hearing your feedback! I'm also happy to report that this story will have 16 chapters.
> 
> Enjoy!

1981, one week later

On that day in LAX, one could easily believe it was the busiest airport in the world. Just as one throng of passengers exited the terminal into the California heat, another crowd would come barreling through on their way to destinations unknown. It was a relatively warm day; chilly by California standards but delightfully balmy for anyone just coming from a New York winter. 

Her windows were down as she drove through the arrival underpass, searching through the cars, trams, and people to find the landmark where she said she would meet him. Her heart was pitter-pattering. It had been all afternoon and into the evening. If she was honest with herself, her heart rate had been and stayed accelerated for the past week; ever since that night back in New York when he eagerly made his promise to make a separate trip to LA. She could still feel the chills that rippled across her skin when he named a date less than a week later. 

She noticed their agreed-upon meeting place from under her dark-rimmed sunglasses and pulled safely to the side, just as an incoming plane from New York taxied in. She checked the digital clock on the dashboard. It shouldn’t be long now. Her right hand adjusted the rearview mirror, checking her pink lipstick and the sweep of her hair along the side of her face. Popping her lips one last time, she opened the car door, stepping out one black chunky heel after the other. Her ankle-length dark green wrap dress flowed behind her as she ducked out and shut the door. 

Standing to her full height, she walked around the car to the passenger side nearer the terminal exit. Her arms crossed and then uncrossed over her chest just visible through the v of the dress. She straightened the sleeves and slid her sunglasses off before crossing her arms again. In an uncharacteristically ungraceful way, she shifted her hips back so she was leaning against the passenger door. It took another minute before she found a cool, casual position, but she eventually found it and froze, waiting for his entrance.

Her directions must have been crystal clear because it didn’t take him long to find her. She noticed him first, the trim, quaffed young impeccably dressed man in the gray double-breasted suit carrying his suitcase and a felted jacket. She debated about waving him down, but she put too much thought into her strategic first impression position that she decided to let him find her.

He did find her as he came closer, his eyes lighting up as they took her in, his feet moving faster towards her. He seemed to get himself under control a few feet from here when he paused, set down his case and coat, and approached her.

“Hey Moira,” he voiced as his arms rose towards her shoulders.

It took her a moment to push herself off of the car, a less than attractive feat she didn’t think he noticed. But before she knew it, her arms were around him, cheek pressed against his neck and shoulder, chin and back bent slightly to accommodate his frame. He smelled fresh, the familiar cologne wafting through her senses. 

He pulled back first, but not before allowing his lips to press affectionately against her cheek.

“Johnny,” she exhaled, feeling more unbalanced than ever. She was glad he kept his hands on her shoulders as his eyes met hers, an equal amount of adoration seeping from their gaze. “Welcome to Los Angeles,” she greeted. 

“Thank you,” he nodded, removing his hands and taking a step back.

She took the opportunity to move to the boot of the car. “You can put your case and coat in here as you certainly won’t need any additional warmth.”

He followed and did what he was told. “I certainly can’t complain about this beautiful sunshine.”

She let him close the trunk for her.

“Do you want me to…” he began, gesturing at the driver’s side of the car.

“I do not,” she muttered in a mock insulted tone as she strutted to the driver’s door. “I will have you know I am more skilled than the average specimen at directing an automobile. I did, after all, run away from home with my driving instructor at 16 years of age.”

He made his way to the passenger side. “I bet that took some serious chutzpah.”

“It was done for complete necessity.” She met his eyes above the hood of the car, tilting her chin. “I’m not a small-town girl.”

She watched as the right side of his lips turned up, his voice soft. “No, I don’t think you are.”

It took more than a moment for her to untangle their stare. “Don’t get my studio car dirty,” she implored as she lowered herself into the automobile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, copying her motion.

“As your personal tour guide for the weekend,” she said as she settled in and put the car into drive. “I insist we begin with dinner.”

Her passenger nodded. “I am entirely at your disposal. And I haven’t eaten.”

“Splendid.” She expertly pulled the car out into the traffic lane and pressed on the acceleration. She slid her glasses back on to account for the setting sun in front of them. “We shall dine at the Windsor as you are dressed for it.”

“I just came from blustery New York, so the suit coat added warmth.” His hands pressed against his chest as he undid a few buttons. “What’s your excuse?”

Her response was quick. “I am always dressed for every occasion.”

“Yes,” he grinned. She could physically feel his gaze blanketing her. “I’m starting to believe you are.” 

“And you, Johnny?” She shifting the conversation. “Tell me, when was the nascency for what became the empire of Rose Video?”

“It started in college, I guess.” His voice inflected, clearly proud to discuss his endeavors. “I can’t remember an exact moment where it hit me. But as soon as I graduated with my business degree, I set out on my own to make this little dream a reality.”

She liked hearing that satisfaction in his speech. “And how lucrative it is proving to be,” she congratulated.

“It was a bumpy start I have to admit, but once we got through the first three years I knew we really had something.”

The car continued along the LA highways as he elaborated on his business strategy, the many months he was going door to door begging for funding, and the thrilling moment when he opened his first store. She prompted him with questions and insights he was more than happy to address. She allowed herself to relax into their conversation, comfortable with his presence. She was self-aware enough to recognize the rarity of that.

They were well into their travels when he turned to her. “So, tell me more about Sunrise Bay.” 

“Well,” she began. “We wrapped season one earlier this month. That means we finished the shooting schedule,” she defined for him.

“I know,” he nodded in comprehension. “I caught an episode a few months ago.”

“Oh, did you!” She lit up. “And what was your review?”

She waited with bated breath for his audit. “You were great, Moira. A real force,” he said genuinely. 

She found her hands shifting on the wheel as her cheeks surely gained some color. “Thank you, Johnny.”

“And the work, you enjoy it?” He continued along the same discussion.

“Yes,” she shared before opening up more. “I find that I have too much personality for one person and not quite enough for two, so it’s alleviating to let some of it out on the weekdays as Vivian Blake.”

“You’re getting a lot of attention,” he noted as they took a right turn into the Windsor. 

“Yes, there have been a few odd articles and interviews here and there.” She failed to make that sound like a passing interest, but she was honest with her next statement. “I take pleasure in the accolades, but I also enjoy the work and its own remuneration.”

Their conversation was temporarily halted as she pulled up in the back of a string of cars who were being helped by valet attendants. “Here we are.”

The sky was now a rich purple as evening fully clothed the earth. She slipped her glasses off and into the cup holder beside her as she took the keys out of the ignition. She turned to find her passenger’s eyes fixated on the building one block down.

“That looks like a nice hotel,” he observed. 

She nodded in agreement and gave him the opportunity to continue his thought.

“I…uh… haven’t booked a place for myself yet.” 

His stumbling continuance made her grin with amusement. And it helped to secure her next decision. “Well, I can make recommendations.”

“Oh,” he exclaimed over-enthusiastically. “That’s wonderful!”

She nodded at his delight. “There’s the Bel-Air, or the Millennium Biltmore, the Figueroa.” She listed off a few as they both stepped out of the car. “Or…” She took an inhale of breath like a new idea came to her as she turned to look at him across the car roof. “There’s this studio apartment on South Broadway that has rave reviews.”

She watched his expression, gauging when he would catch on.

“And it just so happens,” she held up the chain in her hand. “I already have the key.”

He caught on after that. His face melting into a contented yet smoldering expression, his head tilting down so his eyes were hooded, seductive, beneath his brows. She watched as he made his way around the front of the car, approaching her slowly.

“And,” she continued as he rounded the automobile. “I come along with the cost of your stay.”

“Then,” he began as he reached her. Her breath actually hitched as his left hand raised, his fingertips stretching until they eventually brushed against her cheek, sweeping gently across her soft skin to the tip of her chin. “It’ll be worth every cent.”

As she felt her eyes shut without any direction from her brain, her other senses were heightened. His breath was the first thing she felt across her lips right before his nose brushed hers. The caressing fingertips moved back into her hair as his palm cupped her jaw, tilting her head skyward.

Her eyes crinkled. “Johnny?” She whispered as his upper lip finally brushed hers.

“Yes, Moira?” He whispered back, only retreating enough to focus on her voice.

“Just so we’re clear,” her eyes cracked open. “The room’s free. You’re not paying me for…”

It was his turn to smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I got it.” 

“Good.” With their status clear, she resumed her position, eyes shut, head tilted, lips ready. 

And so he quickly resumed his intentions, dropping his lips to press against hers in a captivating caress that felt like nothing she had ever experienced before. 

Once they made it there, neither could pull away. It seemed physically impossible to part from that kiss. She found that her arms moving up his chest as her hands pressed against him. His free hand snaked around her back, holding her securely against him. 

And in that scenic moment as the last rays of daylight danced across the darkening sky, she felt exactly how she knew she was meant to feel, it felt exactly like she knew it would feel when she first clapped eyes on him over a year ago. This was it, and it was perfect.

Somewhere, outside of her conscious mind, a valet attendant stood with the patience of Job, waiting for the car keys so he could do his job. 

Johnny noticed it first as he pulled back only enough to speak. “That valet seems to think you should give him your keys.”

She let out a grin and a giggle before pulling him back in. “Silly man.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your notes! So glad you liked the last chapter and I hope you like this one just as much! This might be my favorite so far.
> 
> Also, if anyone is willing to share, I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you think young Johnny and Moira felt about having children. We're getting to that part in the story and I'd love to hear some other people's characterizations.
> 
> Enjoy!

1981, six months later

It was in the middle of the night in New York and Los Angeles, but dawn was just breaking in Greece on the little island of Santorini. 

He could tell the sun was only just appearing over the ocean even before he opened his eyes. He sensed a strip of light peeking through the chiffon curtain, shining directly on his face. Blinking, he brought his hand up to block the light. It was unfortunate that that single ray of light decided to shine right in his eye, otherwise, he would have been able to get another half hour of sleep. To avoid the glare, he slid his head lower on his pillow and turned to his left, away from the window.

Before he could settle down and close his eyes again, his gaze caught the diagonal strip of light as it crossed the bed. The light lifted over the bump in the sheets that was her hip. She laid on her stomach with both her bare arms stretched above her head and over her pillow, blonde hair anything but perfect, and smooth skin exposed from her shoulders all the way to where the sheets covered her tail bone.

The corner of his lip raised unconsciously as he listened to her steady breathing. He noticed that she hummed in her sleep. It wasn’t a true snore but instead had a musical quality. He pulled her hair back from her face. From his position, he could only see her eyelids and her curved nose. Sitting up a bit, he could see the tanned skin of her back. He noticed the color grow a tint darker over their last few days in Santorini. He thought it was radiant. 

Santorini turned out to be a sporadic decision for them. As were many of their weekend or week-long getaways in between her shooting schedule and his work travels. But instead of their busy calendars interfering with spending time together, they were truly lucky to fit into each other’s lives seamlessly. Together, they bought a house in Brentwood as their west coast place and he traded in his one-bedroom New York apartment for a spacious three-bedroom on the Upper East Side. When she was filming Sunrise Bay, he considered LA his home. When she had time off and met him in New York, that was his home. And when his travels extended beyond a few days, she followed him to destinations unknown. And that was his home.

And when miracles happened and they were both deliciously available, he surprised her with worldwide adventures to exotic places; London, Paris, Tokyo, Greece. Anyplace special they could explore and experience together. Because she was special.

He quickly learned many of his go-to laugh lines were not going to work on her. She wasn’t one to giggle along to stroke his ego. She raised his wit with her own that far surpassed his. There was nothing superficial or surface level about the woman beside him. She was complex and more dynamic than he could have guessed as he saw the many layers of Moira Magill peel back right in front of his eyes.

She had told him shortly after they got together that she knew this was meant to be the first night they met. She tried to describe to him the immense feelings that infiltrated the entirety of her being when they locked eyes on that sidewalk in the Upper East Side. He felt something too in that moment. But that spark of admiration was nothing compared to the rippling flames pulsing through his blood now. 

He was surprised he was awake so early as he barely had any sleep the previous night. And it wasn’t for the usual reasons he was so sleep deprived. No. This sleep deprivation was brought on by anxiety. He tossed and turned for a while until he finally decided to get up so he wouldn’t wake his sleeping partner. He sat in the chaise near the balcony in rapt contemplation.

But now, staring at the glorious women lying beside him, he felt a surprising wave of calm clarity wash over him in this moment of repose. And it set him into motion.

Quietly and with the least movement possible, he slipped out of bed and walked carefully to the dresser he had been using during their stay. It took him but a moment to reach into the top drawer and flip up his pile of t-shirts before he found what he knew was there, what he had been agonizing over for the past weeks. The box was small and velvet lined, elegantly curved and presented. But, flipping the lid open, he decided the contents were all he needed. 

With his treasure in hand, he shut the box back into the drawer and made his way to his side of the bed, resuming his recumbent position. 

Reaching across her pillow, he lifted her bare left hand, still limp, and carefully slid the perfectly sized antique ring on her finger. He took a moment. It looked even more beautiful than he imagined. It was simple; a gold band with multiple diamonds set in. But she made it exquisite. 

Now that it was taken care of, he drew her fingers to his lips and ever so gently kissed her fourth digit. His eyes were fixed on her face, waiting for her to arise from slumber. When she gave no hint of acknowledgment, he stepped up his game. Pulling her arm so it wrapped around his neck, he snuggled his head onto her pillow so it was level with hers. Her mouth parted and he felt her steady breath skim his cheek. Their noses knocked as he tilted, closing in on her lips. He caressed her upper and then lower lip with light kisses. 

After a bit more prodding, her lips finally responded. He smiled and pushed back as he felt her wake. Her now alert hand found purchase at the back of his neck and she rolled towards him. He took encouragement from her move and slipped his hand around her waist, pulling her against him. His other arm snaked above her head and bent so his fingers stroked through her muddled hair. 

Their lazy kisses ended when she bent her head and he moved his lips to the bridge of her nose. She continued to use her fingernails to scratch the back of his neck and he brushed a lock of hair off her face. 

“Morning, sweetheart',” he croaked with early morning sleepiness. 

With sleep still enveloping her and her eyes still shut, she tilted her head. “Good morning, darling.” Her face was devoid of makeup, flushed with natural human glory.

She moved her weight so half her body rested on his, rolling him onto his back. Both his arms automatically wrapped around her upper and lower spine. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle; her head on his shoulder, her leg over his thigh. Her left hand resting on his bare chest, a ring encircling her fourth digit.

“Johnny,” she uttered the moment she locked eyes on the band. “What… is this?”

He took in her expression and met her surprise with an adoring smile. “Isn’t it traditional to put a ring on the person you are going to marry?”

She shot up into a sitting position, suddenly wide awake, wrapping a sheet around her body with her right hand and keeping the mysterious jewelry stretched in front of her. “Do I have any choice in this?” She asked flitting her eyes between her hand and Johnny. 

Johnny shrugged as he sat up beside her. “Do I even need to ask?”

“What makes you think you know my answer?” She scoffed slapping her hand against his leg.

He didn’t think she was actually upset by this proposal, but he was forever thrown off by her unexpected reactions. “Sweetheart, you asked me to marry you a week after we got together.”

Her mouth twisted as she thought back before she took complete ownership of that past action. “Never let it be said that Moira Rose didn’t know what she wanted and go after it fervently.” 

He heard the name spoken so fluidly, it was as if she said it a thousand times before. Yet it was the first time those words together reached his blessed ears. “Moira Rose,” he said for the first time. “Is that a yes?”

Her bottom lip protruded in a pout. “Do a proper ask, John.”

And with that, he held her hand reverently in his, turned his body to better face hers, and focused his gaze on hers.

“Moira, sweetheart,” he began, feeling his emotions swirling and leaking through his voice. “I love you more than I can ever hope to express. I’m a better person because of you. And I want to spend the rest of my life trying to be what you need and showing you how much you mean to me.” He inhaled, his eyes softened, voice lowered. “I want to love you until I take my last breath.”

He felt his steady heart speed up, butterflies enter his stomach, like that moment when you take a leap and you are suspended in the air for a split second.

“That band was my mothers,” he shared, fingering the jewelry with his thumb. “I know I will buy you hundreds of rings throughout our years together, but this one is special and the one I wanted to use when I ask you…” He paused, taking a last breath. “Will you marry me?”

With a glittering smile that could launch a thousand ships, she paused, letting his question hang in the air. Slowly and sincerely, she laid out her response. 

“Johnny Rose,” she began giving their joint hands a reverent squeeze as she glanced down before meeting his eyes again. “I waited a year for you and I would have waited a thousand more if only to culminate with a moment like this.”

He felt his chest burst. To find someone who loved him with the fervor of her devotion was rare indeed. He knew for a fact he was the luckiest man alive.

“Yes,” she took a breath as she nodded her head. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Her words filtered into his brain in slow motion. Once he completely understood that he was now engaged to the love of his life, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around his new family. He shifted her to slide impossibly closer. He held her, tight like his life depended on her always being there with him, and it did. 

Moira gave back all she could, holding him as tightly as her arms would allow and pressing her lips against his cheek. “I love you, Mr. Rose. Very much.” 

“And I love you. You have no idea how much I love you,” he answered, finally meeting her lips with his in a passionate kiss that promised a lifetime together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all who commented and shared your thoughts on Moira and Johnny's opinions on having children! I was thrilled that they aligned exactly with what I was planning! And so, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!

1981, two months later

She smoothed the back of her skin-tight black dress and did one last hair fluff before entering the main room. It was a small gathering, a dinner party with about 20 people congregating in the New York penthouse. She loved this room. The first time she was here, she made a mental note to copy many of the elements in their New York apartment. The glittering chandelier was only one of the exquisite elements that made their friend’s place seem like a step back into the gilded age; gold frames filled with masterpieces lining the walls, tiled floor sparkling in the light, gold-tinted furniture placed around to create conversation nooks. This was glamour and sophistication.

She didn’t linger too long on the aesthetics that night; her attention and sights were directed elsewhere. When she spotted him across the way, she began her strut, one foot in front of the other bringing her nearer. She knew her off-the-shoulder dress with burgundy flowers embroidered on the sleeves was striking and she was taking full advantage of that as she approached him from behind.

“Hello, John,” she cooed, leaning into his ear just as he was breaking from a laugh in his conversation.

His expression was worth the trouble she took to get there as he turned to her with wide eyes. “Sweetheart!” He exclaimed. “You’re early.”

“I took an early flight.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek and wrap an arm around her waist. “I thought to surprise you.”

“Well what a wonderful surprise,” he beamed at her as his thumb stroked the small of her back.

Her eyes flitted from her man, who was looking oh so sexy in his black suit, to the couple he was engaged with.

Johnny held out his hand to welcome her into their conversation. “Oliver and Amilee Laurent, may I introduce my fiancé, Moira.” 

The couple was obviously foreigners, she could tell by the couture fashion labels that graced their elegant adornments. His hair was slicked back like something out of a Paris magazine and hers was styled in a tight bun that highlighted the tinted shadow above her eyes.

Her fiancé continued his introductions. “Amilee was the studio director on our first photoshoot for Rose Video and is now the CEO of her own very successful production studio.”

The woman, Amilee, flicked her hand as if to brush off his comment before speaking in the richest accent her ears had ever been graced with. “Your man exaggerates.” She held out her right hand in greeting as her French rolled off her tongue. “Enchanté, Moira,”

“And to you too,” Moira took her hand and smiled. “It is a true delight.” 

Oliver nodded his head. “And congratulations on the engagement.”

“Thank you,” she nodded back, thrilled at being reminded once again that she would be Mrs. Moira Rose someday soon.

“If you’ll all excuse me a moment.” Johnny pressed his free hand against her upper arm as he backed away. “I’ll be back with a drink for you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, darling,” she beamed as he walked away.

Amilee kept her engaged in conversation with a breathless excitement in her voice. “What an exciting time. Wedding planning and guest lists and catering and flowers…”

Oliver cut in with an even thicker accent as he took a sip of his own drink. “I’m much happy that hard work is in the past for us.”

“Well, our wedding planner seems to have her seams straight, if you will,” Moira shared with one of her public laughs she had become so good at. “I’m afraid I’m far too busy to attend to the details.”

“I understand that.” Amilee nodded with vigor. “A working woman after my own heart.”

“Yes, Johnny and I support each other’s career choices and aspirations 100%.”

“That’s important.” The other woman acknowledged with the point of her finger. “The best advice I received from my mother before we married was to value the compromises a couple must make when it comes to emplois, famille, and bébés.”

“Babies.” Johnny was thrust back into the conversation as he returned with two full glasses. “Who… who’s saying anything about babies?” He stuttered as his jaw visibly ticked.

Moira took her glass with a flourish and immediately took a sip. “Thank you, darling.”

“Compromise, Johnny,” Amilee filled Johnny in. “The key to every marriage.”

The man’s mouth opened and nodded as he caught up. “Okay, compromise…” He paused again before downing half of his drink. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The meal and after dinner drinks went by quickly, filled with delicious food and rich conversation. Moira was becoming a natural at engaging with this type of wealth. She was a quick learner, observing the conversation turns, mannerisms, vocal gymnastics, and alcohol content these people took in. She met them at every step.

Johnny always seemed like he was born to do this and she reveled being on his arm as he mingled. But he was off that night, pulling her away much earlier than their usual departure time and way before she found herself adequately inebriated. He was quiet in the car, listening to the stories she shared from some exchanges. And if that wasn’t enough to worry her, he closed himself off in his private office when they returned to their apartment. All she got was a quick kiss on the cheek and a mumbled something about finances before he disappeared. 

Her brow creased as she got ready for bed, choosing a clean pair of white silk tops and bottoms. She brushed her teeth, treated her face to a good wash and moisturize, and brushed some of the hairspray from her locks.

Returning to their spacious bedroom with a spectacular view of the city, she brooded again. The room was dark, the bed was still made, and her fiancé was nowhere in sight. With a light foot, she shuffled into a pair of slippers and made her way down the hall.

Without bothering to knock, she opened the door wide to the low lit room, revealing a jacketless and tieless worker hunched over the books. 

She stood in the doorway with a hand still on the handle. “John, what could you possibly be doing sequestering yourself in here at this late hour?”

He finally looked up at her briefly before pouring down again. “I’m just going over our finances.”

“Finances,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing in worried confusion. “Are we going under?”

“No, no,” he returned to her attention with a hand raised. “Everything is okay.”

She crossed her arms as she deliberated what the obvious problem could be that would have him so concerned this late. “An issue with securing a joint account?”

“No,” he again insisted. “We’re all set to pull our joint funds together sometime next week.”

Now she was stumped. “Well what, John? Why are you so concerned about money all of a sudden?” 

He paused, swallowed, averted his eyes to anywhere but on her person. “Just thinking…” He shuffled some papers around. “If we would…” another pause. “Have a baby sometime in the future. We’d need to make certain financial provisions.”

Her head cocked and her mouth opened slowly. “A bébé?”

“Yes,” he nodded, seemingly ignoring her pronunciation. “A baby.”

Now it was her time to pause, her face transforming as her eyes lifted to the ceiling and her jaw locked open. “And why would we have one of those?”

He didn't know how to answer that question at first, but he eventually opened his mouth and something came out. “Isn’t that what people do when they get married?”

“Do they?” She questioned, her voice rising a pitch. 

“Yes,” he insisted. “Sometimes more than one.”

“On purpose?” She questioned again, her voice raising two pitches. 

He was starting to get exasperated. Leaning back in his chair, he held up both of his hands, palms out. “Okay, be serious now.”

Her eyes flitted across the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m not being serious.”

“Moira,” he said more sternly than intended. "Do you want to have kids?”

The surprising weight in his voice brought her eyes back to him. There was a beat before she answered hesitantly. “I don’t know… Do you want them?”

He shook his head, eyes widening. “I don’t know!”

This was going nowhere. And she was in no mood to prolong this atmosphere that had descended. 

“John,” she proclaimed forcefully, her arms dropping to her sides. “Come here, please.” 

It took him a moment, but he eventually stood up from behind his desk. He looked defeated as he reluctantly schlepped around to the side and met her at the leather couch along the side wall. 

Standing before him, she pressed on his shoulders to sit down. He complied, guided like a rag doll into position.

Her head tilted as she looked down at him, her arms crossing again. “We seem to be reciprocating uncertainties to give the other the opportunity to express their desire.”

It took him a second, but he nodded her onward. “Yes, I think I follow.”

“Tell me honestly,” she voiced, tone low, adjuring candor. “Do you want to have a bébé?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but not because he didn’t know his answer. No. The pause was enough to confirm what she expected. He needed time to wordsmith his answer enough to be honest and not scare her. She appreciated his thoughtfulness, but it didn’t help to prepare her for his eventual response.

“I see a family in my future,” he resolved, taking on a soothing murmur. “A family… with children.”

Family. That word conjured up so many rippling and contradictory emotions within her. She didn’t feel completely blind sighted, but she did feel completely off balance. Her fingers twisted involuntarily in his shirt at his shoulder. “Thank you for being forthright,” she said after swallowing a huge lump. 

His hand found hers on his shoulder and held it steady. He inhaled. “And you Moira?”

It was her turn to pause. Only she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to say. She couldn't read her own emotions in this moment, much less express them eloquently. Her eyes flitted beyond his head to the sofa back. She began, “I’m self-aware enough to realize that I do not have traditional mothering qualities.” 

She expected her knight in shining armor to protect her against her own criticisms, but she continued before he could argue back.

“I know I don’t.” Her eyes met his sternly. “I get that genetically from my own mother.”

“You’re not your mother, sweetheart,” he tried to soothe with his counter.

“But there is enough of her in me.” She insisted before pulling her hand away in a fit. “Don’t coddle me. I’m trying to be honest.”

She felt his eyes follow her as she walked away. She needed space, some air in her lungs before making her proposition.

“My answer is,” she turned back to face him. “A compromise.”

He wasn’t expecting that, nor did he seem to want to entertain that. “Honey,” he said, standing and walking slowly towards her. “This is not something to compromise on.”

“Shhh,” she implored, ready to continue speaking what she needed him to hear. “I don’t… not want a child, but I’m not like you.” Her head shook. “I didn’t have a future envisioned for myself past bidding adieu to that provincial life.”

“But a child, Moira…”

“A child with you… Johnny.” Her hand swept towards him, her man. “That I will entertain.” 

He bit his bottom lip, processing, before nodding and accepting her statement as genuine. “Not anytime soon.”

“Oh God, no,” she seconded.

“But in a few years,” he stepped towards her, eyeing her from the side. “Maybe, one kid.”

“Best make it two.” Her hands reached out to welcome him. “A companion to keep each other amused.”

He exhaled. “A boy and a girl…”

“Oh, they’ll both be boys,” 

He let her pretend she had power over that for now. “We’ll give them the best that money can buy.”

“A nanny for starters,” she said obviously.

“Of course. And a solid education at the finest schools, opportunities I only dreamed of as a boy.”

He held her waist, thumbs pressing against the milky silk of her pajamas.

“I have something to say,” he began. “But I want you to promise you will only reply with a thank you.”

She reluctantly nodded.

“You have wonderful qualities that would make you a fine mother.”

She would be lying if she said Johnny’s soft words expelled any of the negative thoughts whistling through her mind, but hearing him express this little dream and his perception of who she could be meant a lot. 

“Thank you,” she responded reluctantly before changing the subject, which is what she actually wanted to do from the moment he started them on this tangent. “And you…” Her eyes darkened as she reached for his shirt collar. “Are wearing far too many clothes to make that bébé right now.”

After all the shocks he made her go through that night, he deserved one of his own. “Moira!” He exclaimed, clearly not expecting that to come out of her mouth.

“Oh stop it, John.” She swatted his chest playfully, pushing herself away and back towards the door. “Get ready for bed, darling. And I…” She turned away from him as she exited the room. “I will take my glorious little pill.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants to go to a wedding? As always, thanks so much for leaving your notes and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

1982

Love

Songs and poems are written about it; Thousands upon thousands since the beginning of time. The art of falling in love. One of the most profound needs of a human being is to love and be loved. To find one's heart and soul overflowing with adoration for one person and to feel that reverence reciprocated. But love is also accepting one’s partner for who they are, even if they are imperfect (and they are). It would be preferable if one could marry the perfect person. But that has yet to be seen in this imperfect world. 

The cycle of ongoing love and the reciprocation of continuous love reaches a pinnacle point in our society called marriage, true commitment. The daily decision to do what is best for one’s partner and for one’s relationship; to bring one's full self to the relationship with a promise, till death do you part. Commitment is a choice, based on mutual loyalty and trust. It is not a choice to be taken lightly. 

And Moira Magill was not taking it lightly.

The hot Napa Valley sun was just beginning to set over the luscious grape vineyards. It was a beautiful sight. From the steps of the clay-colored, uniquely architectural mansion, the rolling mountains and rows of trees were the only sights to be seen for miles. The mix of reds, oranges, and greens looked like a postcard just waiting to be captured and preserved. 

He stepped outside from the hubbub of arriving guests for a moment to take in the view and breathe in the moment. The shine of his exquisitely polished black shoes reflected as he stepped out onto the stoned patio. Lifting his tailor-made black tuxedo coat, he let his fidgeting hands rest in his pockets. His right hand clutched the gold band that wouldn't be fingerless for long. A contented grin lit up his face. His breathing, which seemed to be labored all day, finally relaxed as a slight breeze whispered through the trees. Waiting was not his strong suit, but he didn’t have to wait much longer.

The peaceful pastoral scene was interrupted by a muffled wail coming from an upper wing of the venue. It wasn’t overbearing enough to draw attention unless one recognized the tonal inflection at the apex of the sound. And he did recognize it.

Without delay, he made his way back through the mansion, nodding politely and stopping for only a moment to talk with someone who caught his elbow. The crowd outside the main room was dwindling as they made to take their places for the big event. But Johnny went in the opposite direction, towards the grand staircase and up to the second floor’s east wing.

With the din of the crowds growing quieter, his ears became attuned to the faint mumblings coming from the mahogany trimmed door at the end of the hall. He noticed the stretch of light that managed to break under the crack of the door into the dark, windowless corridor. He stopped at the entrance and rapped with his knuckles.

The mumbling voices silenced immediately. It took a moment before he heard footsteps, definitely high heels, making their way to the door. It opened a crack.

“Johnny…” the woman grinned up at him with her rose-tinted lips and helmet-like hair puff. “You’re not allowed to be here.”

“I know Deedee, but…” he stuttered. “I heard…”

“Is that John?” The voice he hadn’t heard in 24 hours asked from somewhere in the room.

Deedee turned back without opening the door any further. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Momo. I’ll take care of him.”

Johnny was about to speak when he heard her again. “Let him in.”

He watched with a smidge of delight as the woman in front of him scrunched her mouth in chagrin. 

As he slowly pushed the door open, his bride-to-be spoke again. “Wait for me downstairs.” 

That comment had obviously been meant for the numerous matching sets of lilac, off the shoulder satin ruchings that rustled past him. He might have been more interested in the ladies that would forever color this day in scrapbooks with their lavender bouquets, but he was too focused on her to be distracted. 

He entered the room, the empty room, and the door shut behind. “Moira?”

“Over here,” she called from a hidden alcove by the illuminated French doors leading onto the balcony. 

He had a sudden image appear in his head of his bride to be standing in front of those doors as the last of the day’s light shined in, coloring her in a golden glow as she tilted her head, eyes sparkling at him. 

He blinked and the imaginative image was replaced with what he actually saw. There, on a catty-corner chaise lounge, was his future wife; white dress puffed for days and trimmed at the top with detailed lace all the way down her arm, full make-up and hair, and slouched into the cushion in a disgruntled heap with both stocking feet hanging from the seat.

He stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes fixated on her. “Sweetheart…” His words choked in his mouth as his arms stretched to her. “You look…”

“I should never have asked Deedee to play a part in this,” she interrupted with a fallen face and hoarse voice. “My first mistake.”

He watched her eyes, trying to read her. “Does that mean there was a second mistake?”

She nodded as her fingers came to crease some of the heaping fabric in her lap. “Choosing 11 bridesmaids may have been a mistake. The majority of which I care not about.”

He took a step closer. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

It took her a second, her eyes turning down to watch the fidgeting of her fingers before turning back up to meet him. “I believe I’m experiencing a healthy helping of stage fright.”

He sighed, feeling his own anxieties validated. “Cold feet?” 

“Fri-gid,” she articulated. 

“If I’m being honest,” his head shook as his hands went once again into his pockets. “I’m a little nervous too.”

“Not now John!” Her voice raised, seemingly shocked to hear him say that. “Only one of us is allowed a breakdown at a time.”

“Why can’t my day be today?” 

“It’s my wedding day!” She dramatically shouted.

“It’s my wedding day too!” He repeated in her same tone.

Her head swung down before lifting with a heaving breath. “I feel like a virginal chorus girl, knees knocking from the fear of forgetting a step."

He saw the unease in her wide eyes. “Moira,” he said as he sat on the side of the chaise covering half of her dress. “This isn’t a show. You don’t need to put on a performance.”

“But it is! There are people out there, John.” With him close, her hand immediately reached for his, fingering his digits as she spoke her insecurities. “People we want to dazzle with this splendor we planned.”

Yes, they had widened the guest list in the past few months to take into account a few more Hollywood producers and some business partners he was courting. But she was the first one to encourage that. She was the one who agreed on a society wedding.

“That’s all secondary, sweetheart,” his voice lilted as he squeezed her palm with his thumb. “The only thing that matters is that at the end of the day we’ll be husband and wife.”

She let her head swing back against the chaise. “I’m going to be terrible at it, John.”

He didn’t know what she meant by it, but he found it was best to just let her tire herself out.

“You saw that review of my regional performance in Macbeth,” she continued, pointing at him with her other hand.

“You got rave reviews.”

“Yes,” she nodded, eyes going even wider. “Rave reviews for playing Lady Macbeth.”

Oh, so she was feeling inadequate? “Sweetheart…” he shifted on the chaise as he tried to follow her line of thought.

His words fell as she abruptly shot up, flinging her legs to the other side of the lounger and shaking her head back and forth. “I’m not ready, John.”

His throat cleared. “What?” His heart leaped to his throat. “Do you… you want to wait?”

“No,” she continued to shake her head, but now he could tell she was looking for something. “I need my veil. Then I’ll be ready.”

Her veil. He breathed again. She only needed her veil. He stood, freeing her dress as they both scanned the room.

“Here it is,” she eventually called from behind the chaise, picking the long piece of fabric off the floor. Winding the flowing material around her arms, she carried it to the floor-length mirror near the balcony doors. It took a bit of shuffling to find the comb, but very little time to press the tines into the blonde curled perm.

He stepped in, positioning himself beside her. Lifting his hands, he fingered the edge of the elegant fabric pulling it around her shoulder. His eyes raked from the floor-length full silk skirt, up to her arms, wrapped in flowered lace all the way up her swan-like neck. 

Her attention was focused on straightening the veil as she looked in the mirror. Her foot kicked the front of the fabric. “Shoes.”

He was the one to find both shoes, one behind the mirror and the other flung in a corner. Kneeling to her side, he lifted the hem of her skirt as she presented him with one foot and then the other. He felt her hand come to his shoulder as she maintained her balance in the heels.

Standing once again, he let out a long exhale and he hoped she did the same. “Feeling better?” 

“A bit.”

He thought that was an understatement. Her face was looking much less tense and much more luminous. He tilted his head, his mouth opening with a breathless murmur. “You’re beautiful, Moira.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say. Her head dipped before stretching up towards him again, eyes more passionate and alive than he had ever seen them, like crystal balls in which he could see his entire future. “God, I want you, John,” she whispered. “For the rest of my life. Come Hell or high water.”

His chest swelled with emotion as if he would be lifted off his feet from her words. “And I want you. All of you,” he added.

She snickered. “If only I knew all of me, maybe I could prepare you for what you’re up against.”

“I do know you,” he assured her without hesitation.

“Do you?” She scrunched her eyes suspiciously. “And you’ve thought this through judiciously?”

“I have.” He nodded, eyes wide open. “And I love you.” 

“Okay then.” Her hand reached for his. “You better get out there Johnny Rose.” Her lips turned up in bewitching satisfaction. “Mrs. Rose is coming for you.”

* * *

The last rays of light shined through the glass floor to ceiling windows in the Napa Valley ballroom. In the shimmering gold, the wedding party stood ready; 11 lavender bridesmaids, 11 black and white groomsmen, 1 Rabi, 1 groom. The burnt orange tint of the clay walls and high ceilings with crystal chandeliers added to the splendor. The five-piece orchestra faded, the cello taking a pause before trilling the first chords of Canon in D. Three hundred chairs scraped the marbled floor as the entire room rose. Bodies twisted back, eyes drawn to the double doors as they opened. 

She walked down the aisle unaccompanied, slowly. One foot in front of the other, taking in the moment where all eyes were on her.

No parents were present to provide any pep talk or to ceremoniously give the daughter away. Parents of the groom were both looking down from above and parents of the bride were not invited. But that was how she wanted it. She was coming into this marriage as her own person, not a property to be bestowed.

They took their places, facing the other with the Rabi between them. At the Rabi’s first statement, they joined hands. 

He spoke from his small leather book, reciting the words he had repeated hundreds of times for hundreds of couples. This couple appeared to be no different. The groom couldn’t move his eyes from his captivating bride. The bride stared right back with an adoring gaze under hooded lids.

Their hands were clothed in smooth, youthful flesh. Their faces, fresh with an exuberant energy for what was yet to come; Good things, years of joy to look forward to together.

At the right moment, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a gold wedding band. He took it, the delicate ring feeling so small in his clumsy finders, and slipped it on her left hand while reciting his promise to love, honor, and cherish her. She repeated his words, bestowing upon him his own golden band, pledging her love till death do they part.

The Rabi raised his right hand as he spoke, gesturing to the bride and then the groom. 

The words sparked action. The groom let go of his bride’s hands, but only to move to wrap around her shoulders. The bride stretched her arms around his waist, pulling him near with her fingertips against his lower back. He tilted his head, leaned in, and pressed all the commitment and love he was willing to show in public into his wholehearted kiss. She matched his devotion in earnest, savoring all they were together. 

When the audience applause broke through, he trailed his hands down her arms and locked their fingers together. Stepping back, he let her see the elation on his face as he took his first breath as a husband.

He knew this step wasn’t going to fundamentally change who he was. Or change who she was. He would never, ever want to do that. But this action only solidified what they both knew; they were better together. Stronger, happier, secure in their sense of belonging. They needed each other emotionally and professionally, like oxygen to their blood. Time would test this bond, but they were ready for the fight


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for all your kind comments! I'm so grateful for the positive response this story has received. Also, your comments have made me change a number of things in upcoming chapters, so keep the thoughts coming! We're still on track to have 16 chapters!
> 
> Enjoy!

1982

A ring echoed through the upstairs of the two-story Brentwood residence sequestered half a mile from the beach through a winding road opening to the austere house. The spacious hallways of the five-bedroom, allowed the sound to travel and reverberate, eventually reaching someone’s ears.

A woman picked up the phone in the kitchen but set the receiver to the side a moment later before moving to the bottom of the steps. 

“Mrs. Rose,” the woman called up the iron rod staircase. “Mr. Rose is on the phone for you.”

There was a pause and she almost called again.

“I’ll take it up here,” the muffled voice called downstairs.

Moira heard the phone perfectly well all four times it rang. She was sure she knew who it was. And she knew why they were calling. And that was why she deliberately didn’t move to answer it.

The ringing finally stopped and she thought she was in the clear. Her chin dropped to her chest as she tried once again to breathe deeply, knuckles turning white from clenching the edge of the sink in the master bathroom. She was strategically avoiding meeting her eyes in the mirror, not wanting to see what she looked liked in this moment.

It was unfortunate that she couldn’t ignore the housekeeper in the same way she ignored the phone. It took some effort to raise her voice and croak out a response, but it took even more effort to actually make her body move. 

On her walk into the bedroom, she straightened her spine and stretched her facial muscles, readying herself to assume one of her many masks of a personality. Sitting herself on the edge of the bed, she reached for the corded receiver.

“Thank you, Mary.” That was the cue for the housekeeper to hang up her line. Moira waited a moment, heard a subtle click, and then spoke, her voice cracking as her tone reached the roof. “Hi, honey!”

“Sweetheart,” he replied with tension in his voice as the background clamor forced him to speak up. “I can’t talk long. I’m calling from the Denver airport and I’m set to board in 15.”

“Well, what a delightful treat!” She allowed her eyebrows to raise as her voice went even higher. “How efficient of you to embark on your return a day early.”

His tone didn’t seem to match her ‘efficient’ remark. “It wasn’t as smooth as that, but I can manage the rest of the deal from the office.”

“And at what hour should I expect you?”

“Let’s see…” he paused as he checked the flight times. “The flight lands at 8:20. I’ll take a cab and see you around 9.”

“I’ll count the seconds,” she crooned through her teeth.

“See you soon, honey.”

“Goodbye, my darling.”

Her mind spun. She had four hours. 

First, she would give Mary the rest of the evening off. Then she would take the car… As her mind worked through the plan, she got to her feet to execute it. Rummaging through her closet, she found a pair of heels that semi matched the skirt and sweater combination she already adorned. From her dresser, she quickly grabbed a pair of dark shades in lieu of a makeup touchup before strutting out the door, harnessing all her cogency to help her through the next few hours.

* * *

She strolled casually down the aisle, balancing a shopping basket in the crook of her elbow that held a few other items she had randomly thrown in on her way to the target location. It didn’t matter what other items were. She just needed something in there to make it appear like she wasn’t coming into the drug store for this one particular item. It was just a casual, everyday shopping trip. Nothing special.

Her eyes scanned her surroundings, making sure she didn’t know anyone around her. Of course, she didn’t. In addition to her incognito, she drove over an hour outside of Los Angeles before she found a drug store that looked shady enough. 

When she was sure nobody was looking, she turned her attention to the shelf on her right. Lowering her dark glasses only slightly, she scanned the myriad of choices.

‘First Response, Clear Blue, Easy Result…’ Easy sounded good to her, although nothing about this was easy. She saw another box that said ‘six days sooner.’ Was knowing sooner really better? Why not? She quickly took the box and slipped it under the random bag of popcorn and nail polish remover as she went to pay.

Once successfully out of the store that was quickly reminding her of a personal Hell, she made her way to the 1977 Lincoln. It was way too dark out to be wearing sunglasses, but she didn’t care and refused to remove them even after safely sitting inside the car. 

There were so many thoughts going through her head on her drive home, she didn’t know where to begin: fear, regret, anxiety, more fear, and then a bubble of rapture that caught her off guard.

This was what he wanted, right? How was she going to tell him? What would he think? They had talked about it in the hypothetical. But how serious was he and did he expect it to happen so fast, just a few months after they were married?

And her. Was this what she wanted? She was even more reluctant to do this than she made it seem to him. And she definitely didn’t expect it to happen this fast. Stupid ineffective pills!

There was also a chance that she wasn’t pregnant at all and that her nausea was brought on by something else entirely. But the sinking feeling in her stomach told her she was right, that there was a new life growing inside her.

She couldn’t question herself now that she was already going down this road. She would know for certain by the end of the day.

Arriving home, her eyes scrunched shut as she sunk into the living room sofa, her spike heels resting on the coffee table. She just realized she had a splitting headache. 

Checking the clock, it was later than she thought. Johnny was most likely in a cab on his way right now. It was that thought that drove her back onto her feet and back to work. Her bag was still clutched in her palm as she turned on the lights that led to the kitchen. 

She turned the plastic bag upside down and watched as the items came tumbling out on the counter. Discarding the bag, she rifled through her purchases, half of them she honestly didn’t remember throwing in her basket. She picked up the bag of popcorn. Without giving her mind a chance to contemplate, she ripped open the corner of the bag and dumped a pile of the fluffy kernels on the counter. 

Her teeth crunched the snack with disdain. She didn’t even like this type of popcorn. Fisting another mouthful, she rifled through her accumulation. And there it was, taunting her, bewitching her so that she couldn’t blink. How out of place this little box looked. That box didn’t belong anywhere in her house. Or anywhere in her life. Did it?

She would go crazy from just staring at it. Turning away, she moved to the glass cabinet that held their alcohol stash. She had never been so glad to see the wide selection of whites and reds at her fingertips. She reached for her go-to year before halting in mid grasp.

If she was pregnant she shouldn’t be drinking wine. Why did she have to remember that stupid little fact right now?

“Fuck,” she whispered numerous times as she shut the cabinet with an aggressive bang.

Her face scrunched tightly as she looked at the clock again. It wouldn’t be long now.

Right as that thought filtered through her head, she heard a car door slam nearby. Holding her breath, she waited, unsure whether she was ready for him to walk through that door or if her body would instinctively run the second she heard his voice.

“Sweetheart!” He called from the side door. 

Well, she didn’t run, but she did make her way back to the counter, leaning over the mess she made and lowering her head dramatically.

He eventually followed the lights to find her there. He quickly took in his wife. “What’s wrong?” He astutely observed. 

“John,” her head raised as did her voice, deciding to get this over with. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

He walked slowly to mirror her on the other side of the counter, afraid of what was to come. “What is it?” He waited for her to begin, but she just stared at him, her jaw opening twice before closing again, making him more anxious. “What is it, Moira? You’ve got me worried.”

She broke her gaze, eyes flitting past his shoulder as she searched for words. “I wanted to share with you… that I experienced a… tsunami of nausea the other morning.”

She watched his face contort as he processed. “You said those eggs must have been bad.”

She remembered thinking that was the explanation. “Maybe, but I was also projecting vomit yesterday morning… and this morning.”

He caught on. “Are you pregnant?” His voice was hesitant, with a small grin of hope at the end. 

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know.” She gestured to the foreign box between them. “I was planning on taking a test, but then I thought why bother! The little bugger will make himself known in…” her eyes went blank as she tried to calculate or remember anything about pregnancy. “Five months.”

“I think it’s nine months,” he corrected. “We need to find out, sweetheart,” he gently coaxed her in the right direction. “You need to see a doctor if that is the case.”

“But…” she tried to argue against what her body was telling her. “We were careful, John! I was careful!” Her arms swung with the force of her words. 

“We weren’t always careful, Moira,” he, again, gently reminded her.

“Yes, and we can blame Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers for that!” She said it like she was about to go out and lay it into those two right now.

He walked around the counter with his arms outstretched. “We need to find out for sure.”

He was right, she knew he was right. His hands came to her shoulders, grounding her into their new reality.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” she relented in a tone that made it seem like she had the upper hand on this whole situation. 

He made his approval known with a kiss to her temple as she turned to the infamous box that would determine their future. Opening the top, she pulled out the test strip and the directions. Why was she so intimidated by a little stick? 

He followed her upstairs into their bedroom and sat himself on the edge of their bed while she went through to the bathroom. She kept the door open as she followed the directions, placed the little strip beside the sink, and emerged a moment later.

“It says to wait three minutes,” she shared, standing before him.

He nodded, eyes fixated on her and then trailing down to a specific area of her body.

“Stop it, John!” She scolded, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “I know precisely what conception was percolating in your mind and I will stand for none of it!”

His eyes shot from her stomach to her face as he opened his mouth to defend himself.

She didn’t give him a chance. “Fat! I’m going to be fat!”

“Pregnant, Moira,” he corrected. “Not fat.”

She didn’t entertain his characterization as her feet began to pace. “My face will blow up like a puff pastry. I’ll penguin waddle around the house. I’ll never go outside again. I’ll have to bid adieu to Sunrise Bay. And my feet, John!” She whipped her body around with crazed eyes. “None of my precious shoes will fit!” 

That seemed like too much to bear as she felt her eyes water with emotion. 

At the first sign of tears, he reached out his hand, beckoning her back. It took her a moment, but she complied, taking his hand in hers as she stood before him.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded, eyes boring into hers. “What’s really bothering you?”

She exhaled, searching inside herself to vocalize the crux of her emotions. “I’m scared,” her voice but a whisper.

He grinned, seemingly pleased with her introspection. “Me too.”

He squeezed her hand. “I hope you never felt any pressure from me, honey. Yeah, I want a kid and I know you weren’t sure, but…”

“No, John.” She stopped him before he could make any more unnecessary apologies. “If I was honest with myself…” her eyes lowered to his. “I do want a family with you. I’m just…” She lost her voice for a moment. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It’s too soon and… I don’t know how to handle it.” 

His thumb rubbed against her knuckles, eyes meeting hers. “I know this is affecting you more than me, in every way possible. But…” He took on a serious tone. “We’re in this together. We’ll be okay no matter what.”

She knew very early on in their relationship that he was good for her; a calm to her passion, a salve to her worries. But she was never more convinced of that than in this moment. The rolling in her stomach evened out, now only a bubbling ripple. 

Feeling the time pass, she knew three minutes was up. “It’s been long enough,” she whispered.

She didn’t let go of his hand, pulling him behind her as they made their way into the bathroom. She bent over the little test on the counter and read the three-letter word, ‘YES +.’

“Oh my God…” It was his turn to slightly panic at the newfound weight of responsibility that befell upon them. 

She was too busy taking all this in to notice the tension suddenly pulsing through his body. The test strip turned blurry. ‘Y, E, S.’ Three simple letters that together were life-altering. She was going to have a baby. They were going to be parents. 

She blinked, a foreign tear dripping down her cheek. She didn’t realize she was crying until a drop fell from her chin, a strangely silent moment. Somewhere deep inside, her heart swelled with what was going to be.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you so much for your thoughtful comments. I so love hearing from you and your thoughts really affect where the story goes. I changed this chapter entirely after your comments.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next installment!

1983

“I hope you know how loved you are,” Johnny spoke in the softest, lowest voice he knew how to. His pointer finger ran through the rich black hair and caressed the tiny ear he was speaking into. 

His sleeping audience did not respond, simply rolled a little in the bed as his tiny wet lips made a sound.

He smiled at the sleeping form and continued his one-sided conversation. “I know I should let you sleep, but I can’t stop staring.” If it was possible, his grin grew wider. “I wish you’d open those big brown eyes. You have my eyes, that’s for sure.” 

He turned away from his audience to look across the room at the other occupant. His wife was sleeping on the couch in the visiting room, dark wigged head tilted to the side as she breathed deeply. “She loves you too,” he told his sleeping companion. “But we’ll let her sleep now. She’s had a long day.” 

Turning back to the little, plastic tub lined with a cushion and blanket, he bent his back forward to lean over once again. His back was telling him he had spent too much time in that position, but he couldn’t help it. David Joseph Rose held him completely captivated. That little boy had been the center of their lives for the last two months, a huge shift for two people who were very comfortable being the center of their own lives.

He didn’t quite trust himself yet, but ever so cautiously he lifted the sleeping little scrunched-up boy from his bed, wrapping the soft green blanket around his body and supporting the head in his hand as the nurses showed him. When he felt secure with the bundle and the boy continued to sleep, he smiled, proud of his accomplishment. 

“Let’s take a walk, big guy.” He did another semi-graceful transition as he rested his son’s head in the crook of his elbow and attempted to bounce him gently across the room to the window. 

The hospital in the Los Angeles suburbs looked out upon a picturesque scene. Their fifth-floor visitor’s room overlooked the dense green park to the one side. If you looked carefully, you could see the tall buildings of downtown LA in the distance. It happened to be a beautiful late afternoon. The clear blue sky seemed to frame the scene perfectly and the sun’s streaming light blanketed the picture with an amber glow.

“It’s quite a view,” Johnny shared, watching as the little boy’s mouth moved. “There’s a big world out there for you to explore.”

A big world indeed, and Johnny Rose was bound and determined to see that his son would experience the best of it.

“John,” a voice called from across the room, groggy from her nap. 

The husband turned from the window to grin at his stretching wife. He knew how much these visits took out of her, even if she wouldn’t admit to her anxieties. So he wasn’t going to be the one to wake her from some much-needed sleep, something neither of them had been getting ever since she went into labor at almost seven months. 

It was anything but a textbook birth. She felt the pains come on suddenly at the beginning of one of her days on set. She didn’t know it was labor, it couldn’t be. She still had months to look forward to that experience. All she remembered in the moment was feeling the worst pains she could ever imagine. Johnny met the ambulance at the hospital as fast as he could only to walk into a night terror. By the time he saw her, she had entered a state of silence, and with Moira Rose, there was nothing more terrifying than silence. 

The baby was coming, putting the soon to be parents through more than their relatively posh lives had prepared them for. After it was clear the baby was about to make himself known, the labor was quick from there and she dealt with the pain as well as could be expected. And so their son entered the world at 3 pounds 5 ounces. 

She spent four days in the hospital recovering, mainly sleeping as she gained strength and was monitored due to the amount of blood loss. David Joseph Rose spent almost two months, initially under IV treatments and oxygen, then a feeding tube, and now gloriously free of both cords.

And today, a proud father and mother were looking forward to going back home with their son in tow.

Johnny grinned at the new mother as she woke, wig rumpled on one side and shoe half off, dangling by her toes. “Would you look at that? She rises.”

She squinted and blinked as her eyes opened wider. “Was I really that out?”

“You were. It’s been about half an hour.”

He knew she needed it though. She needed her strength for the days ahead of them. Because though the tough part was finally over, the really hard part was just beginning.

“Is my bébé finally awake?” She asked as her head gestured to the bundle.

Johnny looked at the sleeping form cradled in his arms. “Not yet,” he said. “I picked him up.” He stated the obvious with evident pride in his voice. “We’re just getting to know each other better. We were looking out the window.”

“Well,” she started as she propped herself upright along the back of the sofa. “He will be experiencing the great outdoors presently. As long as that doctor signs off before the second coming…” her last sentence was a definite dig at how long they had been waiting. “John!” She suddenly became animated as her memory sparked. “Did we remember to put that seat… thing… in the backseat?”

He nodded in affirmative. “We did. The base is already buckled in and the… uh… carrier is beside the sofa.”

“You are truly angelic, darling,” she praised as she glanced at the baby items beside her.

The little boy started to make himself known. He wriggled around in his blanket, his forehead wrinkling as he let out a scrunched up whine.

Johnny suddenly felt unprepared and inadequate. He picked up the baby without any trouble, as he had a few times during their daily visits, but this was something he wasn’t sure how to handle. Usually, there were nurses around to take him when something was wrong; Experts there to take care of him. “What does he want?” He asked, somehow thinking Moira might know better than him.

She widened her lips as her teeth gritted in uncomfortable distress. “Diaper?” 

Johnny shook his head. “The nurse came in and did that while you were sleeping.”

“Try bouncing him,” Moira suggested, her hands gesturing what she thought bouncing should look like. “But not too much!” She quickly added as a caution.

Johnny tried that, but he was never good with finding a rhythm in his Hebrew elementary band class and hadn’t gained any since then.

“Shhh,” he hushed as another idea came to him. “Maybe he’s hungry?”

Judging from her reaction, that was not the solution she wanted to hear. “No, John. I don’t want to.” Her lament was matched with her head shaking and her fists clenching in protest.

Now he had two family members whining. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothed his one whiner. “The nurse said we can switch him to formula soon.” David let out a louder wail that caused the older man’s shoulders to rise in response. “It can’t be that bad.”

She scoffed immediately at his attempted placation. “Oh really, how about you do it?” Her annoyance at his ignorance was palpable. “You let the bébé squeeze milk from your boobies and see how solicitous your symbiotic relationship is!”

He realized how stupid his words sounded. He knew how much she hated pumping for the last two months and how much she hated the few times she tried to get him to latch on in the past week. “I’m sorry,” he apologized loudly just as David’s wails reached the definition of a shriek.

Moira knew what she had to do. With more than a hint of displeasure, she readied herself for his feeding, undoing the top buttons of her satin blouse, before stretching her arms out. “Come here, David.”

Johnny relinquished his son cautiously into her arms and watched as Moira, with all the awkward care he had shown, rested the child in her elbow and pulled him to her chest. 

“Come on…” She bit her lip with concentration as she hoped he latched on without another hour-long fight. It took him a few tries, but eventually, he got it. She smiled in satisfaction.

“John,” she called. “He’s doing it.” 

He watched them, so much more comfortable than their first time holding their baby and the first few feeding attempts. He saw their practice and patience paying off. They were doing okay!

Minutes passed. Her eyes stayed fixated on the baby. She used the back of her fingers to slowly stroke along the soft skin of his cheek. The corners of her lips curled, a serene countenance emanating from her person. 

She was content. He knew her and he was confident in this assessment. Yes, she was still nervous about carrying the responsibilities of raising a whole human being, but they were doing okay so far. After all, they made it through the emotional torment of having a premature baby. 

And he did just pick the kid up! One step at a time.

She must have known he was watching, felt his loving gaze caressing her. “Why don’t you join us instead of staring?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Sliding into the other side of the couch, he raised his arm around his wife. She scooted to the side giving him room to settle beside her. She shuffled a moment before contently settling against his shoulder, their son still contently filling his belly.

“You like holding him,” he vocalized his observation.

She pursed her lips. “I mean… It’s not a very large specimen. I suppose I can handle cradling it now and again.”

He grinned, almost emitting a chuckle at her stubborn resistance to admitting she was happy.

“When do we get out of here?” she asked, never taking her eyes off the bundle in her arms. 

“They said within the hour, so the doctor should be in sometime soon.” He rested his temple against hers. “I think everything’s ready to bring him home.”

She sighed. No more hospital visits sounded blissful. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he assured her. “You’ve done enough for me to be indebted to you for all eternity.” He gestured to the child in her arms.

“I’m glad you acknowledge that, Mr. Rose,” she replied smugly. “Because I will never do this again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have David as a preemie originally. But that was many of your characterizations of how David came into the world, so I made the change. I hope you like it!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for your notes! We are getting close to the end, but there are a couple more key moments and fun moments to come.
> 
> Enjoy!

1986

She tipped the bellhop as the young man bowed out of the door to the hotel room. 

It was a beautiful room. Johnny Rose deserved nothing less. Even if his business trip was only taking him away for 4 days, he lived it up. The suite was only a one-bedroom, but the main room was large enough for 8 beds. Flicking on the light switch to illuminate the dark, she turned to view the room decor. There were two large sofas across from each other, decorative lamps, side tables with stone statues, and fresh flowers. 

She took a step towards the sofa and side table while she unbuttoned her slightly damp winter coat, before flicking on the lamp to add even more light. It turned out to be a very cold night in Toronto. A persistent snow fell from the sky from the moment she arrived until she walked into the hotel from her cab. She could still feel the chill in her bones even as the room’s heat enveloped her. 

She shrugged her coat off and tossed it flippantly over the back of the couch, not worrying about how damp it was. Her hands moved to straighten the high neck of the white silk blouse she wore and then down to the high waist black patterned skirt. 

“John,” she called towards the side door she assumed opened into the bedroom. No response. Her brow creased. He must be still working. She was afraid of that.

They last spoke only a few hours prior. It was a quick phone call as he was in between meetings, but it was substantive in understanding his mindset. He spoke phrases like, ‘The new regional manager I hired is more of a burden than a help,’ and ‘I’m frustrated during the day and end up working through the night.’ Hanging up the phone after he bid her adieu, she didn’t like it. 

She was a spontaneous person and it didn’t take much to convince herself to book a direct flight to Toronto. Their little two-year-old would be perfectly fine with the nanny for one night. It wouldn’t be the first time they called upon her overnight services. Moira didn’t have an early call at the studio the next day, she could fly back mid-morning Toronto time and make it on set by ‘places.’ 

The only real thing she contemplated was what clothes to bring with her. She decided two suitcases was excessive for an overnight, but she did choose the largest single case she could find for the options of outfits and shoes she packed. 

David was in the nursery playing a game with elephants and butterflies when she came to bid him goodnight. And with a peck to her son’s forehead, she was ready. 

It felt like only a moment had passed, and here she was in Toronto; plan executed.

She reached towards the phone that sat on the end table and pressed 0. It rang twice before someone picked up.

“I would like to order room service up to 712.” She paused as the other line spoke. “Two of your chef’s choice specials with side salads.” Her lips curled as the operator confirmed her order before she placed the phone back on the receiver. 

No sooner had she hung up, than her ears were blessed with a commotion outside the entrance in the hallway. She took a breath as the door was unlocked and her man stepped through. Or tripped though.

Her luggage that was still sitting at the front door toppled as his foot collided, his arms darting out to steady himself and prepare for a potential fall. Luckily, he stayed on his feet but in the act, his briefcase went flying and the manila folder he was carrying spread loose papers all over. 

“Shhhhii…” he started to swear as his eyes darted to the heap that prevented him from a graceful entrance. “What the…?” As soon as he looked up, it clicked.

“Good evening, Mr. Rose.” Her simple, demure statement matched her unfazed, innocent posture; hands comfortably at her sides, knee slightly popped, head tilted forward with more of her lids showing than pupils, a wry smile growing across her face.

“Moira…” he muttered as the burst of tension he got from his unexpected entrance left his system.

Her arms raised as she walked towards him. “Surprise, darling.”

“What, how did you…” his question died with her lips on his, claiming her greeting.

She pulled back with a slight moue. “Well, if we got a private jet, like I previously suggested, I would have just taken that. But as we don’t…” Her hands ran up and down from his shoulders to his elbows. “I flew first class.”

His eyes hadn’t shrunken at all from the owl-like orbs that first laid eyes on her. “All the way from LA?” He asked in astonishment. 

She acted like his surprise was folly. “Well, it’s not like you were halfway around the world! It was nearly a hop, skip, and a jump…”

He cut her off with his exclamation. “It’s a 5-hour flight!”

“Well worth my time, I hope.” She took a moment to take his now empty folder from his limp hands and discarded it on the entry table before dancing her fingers across his chest, a true pout taking over her face to match her nurturing eyes. “You sounded discouraged on the phone, John. It’s not an attractive look on you.”

His hands now free cupped her shoulders as they reveled in the warmth from her body, a body he didn’t expect to be waiting here for him. “I didn’t mean to worry you…”

“I’m glad you do share these things with me.” She let a digit trace the line of his chin. “I like worrying about you.”

She watched as his face melted back into the Johnny she knew. Calmer, responsive, with both eyes fixated on her. “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured as his head bobbled. “More now than ever, if that’s even possible.”

“I love you, too,” she lovingly replied, before a flirtatious glint lit up her eye. “Are you feeling better?”

He nodded, matching her gleam. “Getting there…”

He leaned in for another kiss, only to find her finger in his way and her whispering lips at his ear. “Indulge me… Edward…”

His heart rate increased, blood pumping stronger than ever through his entire body. She drew back from his ear and watched his breath hitch. His lips pressing together before licking his upper lip and finally replying. “Don’t… move…” 

His hand went out in a freeze position as he backed towards the door, fished around for the handle, and shut himself on the other side.

She watched with glee as he made his exit and quickly used her feet to shuffle his fallen papers and briefcase to the side. She also made note to shove her suitcase further against the wall so as to avoid any more hazards.

A triple, confident knock rang through the room. Collecting herself, as all great actors do, she approached the door with both aloofness and mirth. 

She cracked the door, only to find a smug, tall, hunk of a man on the other side. “Yes?” she asked demurely. 

“Scuse me, ma’am,” the man said with a strong, accented voice as his eyes raked down her body. “I’m here to fix your… radiator?”

“Yes.” She moved to the side and opened the door wider. “Please, come in Mr…”

“It’s Eddie,” he shared as she paused. “Thank you.”

She watched as he stepped past her confidently and settled his hands in his pockets. “I appreciate your swift action, Eddie. Toronto in winter is not time to be left without a functioning heat source.”

“I’ll say,” he concurred as his eyes seemed to scan the room. “It’s freezing in here. I don’t know how you managed.”

“I have my ways…” she left the answer hang as her tongue peeked through her lips.

“Where do you need me?” He asked, clearly opening that question up for interpretation.

She didn’t miss a beat. “This way…” her hand swept to the side, brushing against his own. She let out a gasp. “Your freezing!” She exclaimed as if she just noticed the polar temperature of his body. “And soaked to the skin from all the snow.” Her face laced with worry.

He flexed his ‘frozen’ fingers. “It’s cold and wet out there.”

She locked eyes with him again, nodding her head towards the inner door as she gave her next order. “Come with me.”

He complied, following her obediently. “Where’re you taking me, ma’am?”

She turned around to look at him again as she answered. “To get you into something dry and to warm you up.”

She knew his ears liked the sound of that. In fact, she was sure other parts of his body liked the sound of that too. “Almost sounds like an offer.” His eye gave her a wink.

Her eyes turned from caring to hot as she crossed her chest with her arm and took a defiant step back. “I’m not that kind of girl, Edward.” She pointed her hand towards the entry door as she continued her insult. “Just for that you can about-face back into the tundra and get frostbite for all I care.”

He crossed his arms and met her fury. “Oh, I see how it is. I’m only useful to you as your… fixer-boy?” He chose his word after some deliberation.

She gave him a face that made him think the answer was yes.

“Well, I’ve got news for you.” He pointed a fierce finger at her. “I’m useful for more than just fixing your radiator.”

“Is that so?” She questioned at a heated pitch.

“It is!”

She took a step closer to him, offering a dare as her chin jutted upwards. “Prove it, Eddie!”

He took the dare. He backed her into the wall as he proved it. His bold lips finding hers just as passionate. He pulled back. “I’ll prove it to you,” he said with his lustful intentions obvious. 

“We shall see about that.” Moira’s eyes turned dark as she broke to stare into his eyes. “Come with me,” she ordered once again as she held him by his coat opening and pulled him through the bedroom door, sealing it tight.

Letting him stand on his own, she gave him another order. “Remove your jackets, both of them.”

He complied, shrugging the felted black coat off his shoulders and letting it fall to a bulky heap on the floor. His sports coat was also quickly removed and tossed to the side.

She stood back to watch him. “And the shirt.”

He kept his eyes on her as he moved his fingers to his tie, quickly giving up. “I can’t, my fingers are too…cold.”

She stepped forward. “In need of abetment?”

He watched as she first stood closer than necessary and pulled his shirt out of his pants. Her hands then started at the top slowly undoing his tie before whipping it off onto the floor. She was right back to work on the top buttons of his shirt and made her way down, not being coy about how her touches brushed the revealed skin.

“You’re warming up nicely,” she commented as she felt the heat emanating from his chest.

“Still cold though…” He insisted innocently.

He helped as she pulled his shirt off over his shoulders. Standing back to his full height, she came as close to him as possible without touching him. Yet he could practically feel every curve of her chest and waist and he certainly felt the heat in her breath against his body.

She brought her eyes back to his hazy ones. “I must assume your digits are too frigid to take care of your trousers as well?”

He nodded. “Yes, much too cold.”

It was no problem for her as she flicked open the buckle and fly and drew them down his legs, following them as she squatted to his feet.

She didn’t have the patience to unlace his shoes completely, so she did the minimum amount of work possible and then tugged them off while he held onto the wall for balance. With his shoes off, she was able to take his pants all the way off as well. 

He felt her hot breath cover his body from toe to lips as she stood back up in front of him.

“Now how are you going to warm me up?” He asked her, pretending to shiver. 

“Well, I do know of one way…” Her voice trailed off as she thought. 

“How?” He asked with bated breath.

“Body heat.”

“Hum, that’ll do the trick.”

She let her dark eyes and sly grin talk for her as she nodded to the kingsized bed in the center of the far wall. 

He, again, complied with her order and laid down on his back in the center.

He watched his black and white-clothed lover start at the end of the bed and climb up over him until she laid on top in a star pattern, covering him as completely as her small frame could.

“Better?”

“Much,” he said as he held her hands in his. “I think one more thing would help?”

She propped her chin on his chest. “What’s that?”

“A kiss.”

She slid her body up against his the extra two inches that brought her lips to hover over his.

She covered his smirk with her lips as they immediately devoured. He moved his arms to wrap around the back of her head, holding it flush against his. Her feet kicked out to straddle him and he almost died when he realized she still had all her clothes on. 

He went to make that right starting with the blouse which got caught on her arms as he tried to lift it over her head. “Damn it…” he exhaled as it finally flew behind her.

Holding the waist of her skirt, he flipped them to give him better movement as he trailed the side zipper down. 

“You’d think after all this time I would’ve… figured out an easier way to get you out of these things.” 

Once her skirt was around her ankles, he tried to do the same with her tights. “They’re built to teach patience,” she sighed as she watched him fumble.

With her tights shrugged halfway down her body, he moved to her heels, flinging them off as quickly as he could before finally pulling the rest of her bottoms off.

He reveled in his labored success for a moment before climbing back on top of his wife and placing a loving kiss onto her lips.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered as his face glowed with wonder. 

She grinned back at him, smoothing the whispy hairs from his face before he sunk back down again, his lips trailing, lower and lower until they reached their intended destination.

“I’m glad you’re both here,” he said as he placed a reverent kiss beside her navel on the protruding bump that was her 5-month stomach.

“John…” she whined, trying to pull him up again. “Don’t ruin my moment. I almost forgot I looked like this…” She was doing all she could to ignore this surprise pregnancy and let the months pass as quickly as humanly possible. 

He followed her lead and climbed back over her, his weight completely supported by his hands so as not to crush their second child growing inside her. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” His remark was punctuated with a peck on her lips. “You always do and you always will.”

They broke character a while back. And she forgot about the room service that was currently out of earshot knocking on their door. Completely off-script, their improvised session promised just as much reward.

“Now,” she began as she lifted herself on her elbows, causing him to roll to her side. “What… positions do you think we can still accomplish in this state?”

His eyebrow twitched as his mind reeled. Drawing his eyes back to her, he shook his head. “Honey, I don’t think half of those positions are legal in Canada.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your notes! I've been planning this chapter since my beginning outline.
> 
> Enjoy!

1987

“Mommy’s in the closet!”

David tore back through the house with spry feet, giggling all the way as if he had the biggest sugar rush in history. 

It took Johnny a moment of standing there in the front door frame with his briefcase still in hand before David’s message actually reached his ears and was comprehended by his brain. 

“She’s where?” He asked, mostly to himself because there was nobody around to hear him. He expected their part-time cook to still be in the kitchen occupied with dinner and, from the direction David was traveling, he assumed Adelina and Alexis were in the kid’s playroom. 

His curiosity certainly piqued, he stepped further into the foyer, down the hall, quickly detouring into his downstairs office to drop off his briefcase, and to the playroom where lots of activity was happening.

“David?” He asked as he peeked in, immediately noticing the hundreds of large-sized legos covering every inch of the floor. “Evening Adelina.” He acknowledged the older woman in the middle of what appeared to be a lego wall in mid-construction. 

The woman nodded to him in greeting before the man turned back to the four-year-old boy who was now frantically kneeling on the floor and collecting more legos.

“Dada…” a little voice called, mumbling the words over her pacifier. 

One-year-old Alexis Rose waddled on her newly found walking legs up to the new person in the room with arms outstretched. 

“Hi, honey,” he said, clearly distracted as he reached down to pick up his youngest child. Bringing Alexis carefully to his hip, he asked his other child for clarification. “David, what did you say about your mother?”

The little boy didn’t acknowledge him with a look, but he did answer. “She’s in the closet.”

Closet… Okay, so his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. “Are you playing hide and seek?”

“No,” David shook his head, taking some of his legos and bringing them to the half-built wall. “We’s building a city.”

Yes, that checked out. He lowered Alexis and watched as she tottled off to her big brother.

“Have fun, kids,” he said out the door. 

Every time he stepped into that room, his blood pressure spiked. Their energy and mess and questions and lack of verbal skills was absolutely draining. Nothing in his life thus far had even hinted at how difficult it was to raise children. 

Their first challenge had been finding a good nanny. They went through 15 different interviews to find one both he and Moira could agree upon. Adelina was their lucky 16 and had been with them since David was an infant. 

And then there was the challenge of finding a preschool that would take David full time, 5 days a week. They were on the waitlist for a month. And then Johnny read about how important it was for young kids to attend preschool, so he quickly pulled a few strings and made sure his kid got in. 

He didn’t consider this a challenge, but finding the right toys for children had also been a feat. Apparently, some toys were choking hazards, as Adelina had gently informed him when he brought home a miniature lego set. And so on his next trip, he purchased the larger legos. But there were so many different options out there and compelling marketing campaigns that made him see himself as an inadequate father if he did not purchase these products for his own flesh and blood. And so he did buy in excess. He bought it all: games, dolls, cars, blocks, battery-operated, bikes, dress up, and stuffed animals, to name just a few.

His children would have the best his money could afford and his position could bring them. That was a promise he made before they were born and it was one he intended on keeping. He would take care of his family.

And so, he climbed the stairs, loosening his tie along the way, to take care of the other member of his family. Only he was afraid this wouldn’t be one of those problems he could throw money at to solve.

Their bedroom was dark except for the minimal light coming in from the end of the day’s sun. Their bed was still made, everything looked like it was in its place. He paused in the entryway, listening for any movement.

“Moira?” He called. The answer he received didn’t seem human, or animal for that matter. But it did seem to come from behind the door of their walk-in closet. And so he proceeded.

As with the bedroom, the light was off in the closet as well. He quickly fixed that and let his eyes scan through the small square room, a third of which held his numerous suites, a third held the racks of her clothes, and a third held her wigs, some carefully displayed and others packed away in meticulously designed cabinets.

A foreign groan drew his eyes quickly to the section where her clothes hung. He wouldn’t have noticed it at first because of how well she camouflaged into the black and white, her clothing style was growing increasingly into this color scheme. But that was his wife down there… on the floor, underneath the racks of her clothes and clearly lying on top of various pairs of heels.

“Moira, sweetheart,” he called gently and cautiously at the lump. He couldn’t tell which side her head was on.

The next incoherent muffled mumble followed by a high pitched wail seemed to come from the right side. At the wail’s apex, her head turned and he was finally able to make out the black wig that covered her head and the dark glasses that covered the top half of her face. 

He wasn’t sure what her state of mind was, or if she was even listening to him, but he spoke anyway trying to soothe whatever ruffled her with soft words. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She breathed heavily and the slurred sounds that came out of her could be interpreted as words. “Why… pray tell… would you get that believed abstraction?” Her head rolled back and forth, never turning towards him.

“Did you take your pills today?” He inquired in his father like tone.

Her head flopped again as if to nod. “And tomorrows and Saturdays… I always make it a point to be early.” He didn’t know what about her last sentence tickled her, but she suddenly became more alive and turned her head to him directly. “YES! John!” She yelled at him, darting her hand out and clutching his pant leg tightly in her unforgiving grip. “I’ve not made it a habit of missing my call times! I’m always early John! I deserve a raise…”

It clicked in his head. She was negotiating her contract today, asking the Sunrise Bay producers for what she deserved as a prominent character for six seasons. Some critics argued that it was Vivian Blake that gave the show its popularity and ratings. She made the show the success that it was.

But now… he stood there contemplating how to proceed. He thought lowering himself to her plain was a good start. That action turned out to be more difficult than he pictured. Bending over, his arms reached for the floor to balance himself while his knees bent. 

A strained grunt left his throat, like that of a much older man than his biological age. “One of these days I’ll kneel down here and my back won’t let me get up.”

His half-humorous statement didn’t phase her at all. But she did move the hand that was clutching his pants back to her own person as her jaw ticked. 

As he settled in a criss-cross position, he didn’t let her hand go far, reaching out to place his own over hers. “I take it your meeting didn’t go well.”

He watched her nose scrunch as her pale lips parted. “I think I just negotiated myself out of a job.”

His face fell for her, eyes full of caring concern. “Oh, sweetheart…” His thumb brushed her knuckles. “What happened?”

She paused, face turning to the side of the closet so he was viewing her profile. “With preplanned effectiveness…” she began slowly, her voice starting off strong. “I laid my case before them… like a lamb for slaugh-ter I now see!”

He paused to let her continue.

“We opened with my high ask, prepared to negotiate when they countered, but…” 

He assumed by ‘we’ she meant her and her agent. 

She dropped her chin in a u-shape as her head swung towards him. “They- ne-ver- coun-tered.”

That didn’t seem right. His eyebrows crossed with confusion. “That doesn’t make sense…”

“I know!” She yelled dramatically as her hunched body shook with the force.

“But…” Johnny continued trying to make sense of all this and of her reaction. “From the way you were talking last night, you were ready to walk if they low bared you.”

“But I didn’t mean it!” She insisted at him loudly, her tone insinuating he was crazy for even suggesting she was prepared to leave. “I didn’t want to walk. I… I love my job…”

The way her voice broke at the end broke him as well. “Oh Moira, I’m so sorry.” His hand let go of hers, only to run along the one arm he could reach, soothing the best he could as he tried to problem-solve her hefty issue. “Maybe you could talk to Tippy tomorrow and…”

“Never!” His wife forcefully insisted in intoned, rounded sounds and, again, flailing her head back and forth. “Moira Rose will never crawl back on her hands and knees to where she is not given the respect she deserves.”

“Damn right,” he agreed. He would agree with whatever she said at this moment to make her feel better. 

Her fingers twitched as her hands came together, punctuating her next thought. “I will have a guest contract for the beginning of the seventh season… while they write-me-off…” Her breaths became heavier and more labored as those last words left her mouth. “Oh, John…” she gasped. “I think those pills are losing their effect.”

“I’d say they’re still kicking.” From his observation, the exact opposite was true. “You’re quite high, sweetheart.”

“No, John.” Her head shook slowly, dropping into the palms of her hands and against her curled knees. “I am… depleted. And so completely…” He waited, waited for the elaborate vocabulary word of her choice. But she could only find one word to describe how she felt. “So completely… sad.”

What was it she once told him? Discouragement wasn’t an attractive look on him. Well, he didn’t like it on her either. Not one bit. And he didn’t know how to make it better.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He raised his arms to welcome her from her cocoon and into his hug. She didn’t budge, her head staying in its duck and cover position as more sobs emerged, immediately muffled by the fabric in the room.

Coming to the realization that she wasn’t moving, he adjusted his tactics. Scootching closer, he slid his left side against her right, ducking his head to avoid the hanging silk shirt sleeves from covering his face. His arm came around her frame, tightly pulling her to lean against him as his other arm encircled her knees. With a heavy exhale, he pressed his lips onto the back of her neck through the wig hairs and let his head rest there, fully swaddling her in his embrace. 

He didn’t think he could throw money at this problem, but he would try. He would take her on lavish trips to help her forget about everything. He would buy her expensive jewels to help her feel her worth. He would seek out his list of Hollywood contacts and lobby for upcoming movie roles. He would put her in touch with other event opportunities.

But this dejection was deep and would affect her for a long time. This struggle with self-worth and outward validation would persist. He wasn’t even confident he could get her out of the closet by the end of the day. 

As he sat there in the most uncomfortable position he had been in since he was shoved into a locker in high school, he felt like this was the right thing to do. Like this was how he made things better. By being there for her, beside her, holding her, loving her. And that was the best he could do. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've almost reached the end! This is the last chapter I have on this relatively limited timeline and chapter 16 is an epilogue of sorts.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for your thoughtful notes! If you have any future story ideas, let me know. I'm always up for story suggestions and will execute one if my muse strikes!
> 
> Enjoy!

1988

She groaned as she rolled onto her back, unable to ignore the mumblings that somehow sounded like cannon fire roaring through her sleepy brain. “John, your children are awake.”

“My children…” he questioned matching her sleeping voice.

She kept her eyes closed but nodded. “They’re yours before 9 am on my day off.”

She had her workday routine and her weekend routine. On workdays, she was the defacto one to greet both her cherubs as they awoke, usually waking her up before her body’s natural inclination. The three of them would traipse to the kitchen. Only after she could smell her morning coffee brewing would she speak, asking them what they would like for breakfast.

They had their choice of whatever cereal sat in their pantry. David had taken to helping pour out his own cereal into a bowl while Moira dumped some in a bowl for Alexis. The two youngest Roses enjoyed sitting at the high counter as they munched on their breakfast and Moira enjoyed relative peace as she finally took the first sips of her glorious morning coffee. 

It was at that time that Adelina usually arrived to take over while Moria returned upstairs to ready herself for her day; some days it was for on an acting job, a society luncheon, or on the event planning committee for a number of charities. Johnny usually made his appearance a short while later, already dressed and ready for his first cup of coffee. With a pat on the head for each little Rose, he bid them adieu as he left for work.

That was their routine and it worked well for all. Their weekend routines, however, were much more catch as catch can. It wasn’t often that Johnny and Moira were both home with the children, not traveling to far-off places using their new private jet or traveling for work-related purposes.

So they both felt a bit at a loss when they awoke far too early to the sounds of pitter-pattering feet and hushed whispers telling each other to be quiet from the other side of their bedroom door.

She heard her husband let out his own growl in protest, yet he didn’t challenge her. The bed dipped as she assumed he got up. There was a brief pause while she guessed he wrapped his robe around him and padded to the door.

“Shhh…” he shushed the two playful screams that greeted him when he opened the door. “Mommy’s still sleeping.” 

And that was the last thing she heard before the door was once again shut and she flipped her body onto her stomach to fall back into dreamland. 

“Mommy.”

The next thing she knew, her eyes popped open to the sideways chubby face in front of her. 

“She’s awake!” The voice shouted much louder than necessary. Her ears rang as she squinted her eyes shut.

“David,” the hushed tone of their father scolded. “I asked you to check on her, not wake her up.”

There was no more use trying to get any additional shut-eye. “I’m awake,” she mumbled, rolling onto her back and blinking her eyes open. Her gaze first greeted the white vaulted ceiling before she brought her chin to her chest to look at the view from her plain. 

“What is this?”

Johnny walked towards her from the door frame, their little two-year-old close behind him clutching her blanket in her fist. Before him, Johnny held a breakfast tray with an impressive spread; eggs Benedict over whole-grain muffins, fruit cups, a teapot with a cup, a bowl of dry cereal, and juice in a sippy cup. 

Johnny’s face lit up in a pleased grin as he set the tray over her legs. “Breakfast is served, my dear.”

She opened her mouth in an oval shape as she sat up and let her eyes scan over the spread. “What a delightful surprise, John," she praised. “Is this your culinary skills on display?”

“Well, no.” His back turned to her as he walked back out through the door. “We had some help in the cooking department…”

“I cooked!” David announced confidently as he jumped from his spot right beside the bed. 

Her eyes flew to him, matching his excitement in her response. “Did you!”

He nodded proudly as he explained how he cooked it. “I helped put it on the plate and I poured the cereal… AND I helped with the cups!”

Johnny must have heard David from the hallway as he reentered with a second tray and a chuckle under his breath. “If that’s the definition of cooking he’s growing up with…”

“Thank you, darling!” Moira praised her son never the less. “Mummy is very proud of you.”

The beaming boy hopped himself on the bed, crawling over her legs to the center. “Daddy and me’s sharing a tray and you can share with Alexis.”

Peering down at her tray, she could tell the purple sippy cup and the bowl of fruit mixed with cereal were not intended for her, but instead for the little girl attempting to follow her brother onto the high bed.

“A help,” Alexis called as she sunk back to the floor for the third time. 

Careful not to jostle the tray, Moira reached over to grab Alexis’s wrist and lifted her up, landing in her mother’s lap. Alexis quickly scooted off to get herself under the covers, sitting in the middle of the bed, and wrapping the blanket under her arm.

Moira took notice of the pajama choices, David in his waffled black bottoms that cinched at the ankle with a matching black shirt. Alexis wore the same style set in lavender. Moira smiled with satisfaction. This was the one area of raising children where she was thriving. She remembered the exact moment when she found out Neiman Marcus had a children’s section.

While the right side of the bed got themselves configured the left side dipped with Johnny’s weight. He situated himself against the headboard and stretched his legs out under the second tray. David quickly found his place on the other side of the tray and reached for his cup of juice.

“No spilling,” Johnny warned as David used two hands for his successful sip. 

Moira delighted in her first sip of hot tea. “Well done, my little Rose family. Remind me one day to teach you my mother’s recipe for…”

“Alexis?” Johnny interrupted, diverting their attention to their daughter who was frozen in place with a scrunched up look on her face as she held a fist full of cereal. “Is something wrong?"

David popped a strawberry in his mouth as he answered. “She’s gotta go.”

“Go where?” Moira asked for clarification.

Their son bounced his head. “Gotta go bathroom.”

Both parents’ eyes widened. “Oh!” 

“Is that it, Alexis?” Johnny asked her. “Do you have to go?”

A little nod of the head sent Moira into fast motion.

“Off my bed, poppet,” she said as she rapidly bent her knees out from under her tray and lifted the smallest Rose down to the floor.

Alexis seemed to know what to do as she pranced off to the adjoining bathroom, dropping her blanket as she went. 

Moira followed, partly because she expected Alexis could not complete a successful potty experience by herself and partly because she didn’t want her bathroom to pay the price for that failure.

The two-year-old was half successful at pulling down her pajama pants and her pull-up, but it was good her mother was there to lift her onto the toilet. No potty seat meant Moira had to hold her by the arms to keep her from falling in.

“Are you going?” Moira asked, teeth pressing together under the awkward and disgusting scene she found herself in. 

Alexis’s grin and nod matched the sound that reached her mother’s ears.

“Bravo, darling,” Moira celebrated as she hopped Alexis down. “What a… what an accomplishment!”

She was quick and efficient with a wipe and Alexis helped by pulling her pants up on her own. There was no stool in their bathroom, so Moira hoisted Alexis between her hips and the counter as she helped her wash hands. 

And so the little girl reentered the bedroom with gusto and bouncy feet.

The mother entered slightly more controlled as she re-moisturized her hands. “It will be a blessed day throughout the land when this household can use the facilities independently.” 

Johnny nodded in agreement as he continued to dive into his eggs. 

With a running start, Alexis managed to use the momentum to fling herself up onto the bed and climbed back to her spot among the pillows in the middle.

“She dropped some cereal,” Johnny shared as Moira started to settle back into her side. “I think I picked all of it up.”

Pausing mid-movement, she spotted at least two crunchy pieces in the crack between her pillow and the mattress. With the flick of her wrist, she brushed them to the floor. Once again settled with the tray over her pajama-clad legs, she picked up a fork and took her first bite of eggs.

“What are your plans today, sweetheart?” Johnny asked as he washed down his eggs with some coffee.

It didn’t take her long to mentally review her schedule. “I have a lunch date with some girlfriends in from New York. But I do believe I’m free to sup this evening.”

Her husband took her up on her offer with a smack of his lips and a not so subtle wink. “Pencil me in. Musso & Frank?”

“Of course,” she scoffed, as if there were any other dining location they would go to.

“Can I go too?” An unexpected little voice made himself known.

Both parents turned their heads, shocked to realize they were not having a private conversation. “Um… I don’t think kids are allowed at Musso & Frank,” Johnny questioned. “Are they?”

Moira shook her head fervently. “No…” She took another sip of tea as she explained things to her inquisitive son. “Besides, you have your educational opportunity today.”

Johnny paused, thinking before speaking again. “It’s Saturday, Moira. No school.”

“Oh…” She knew children were off school on Saturday and Sunday, and she knew today was Saturday. So, she couldn’t put her finger on where her error in calculation emanated from.

“So I can go!” David stated this time, confidence in his little voice as he raised a blueberry filled fist in the air.

Moira gave him a disappointed pout as she tilted her head. “No, darling. But I’m sure you will find yourself delightfully entertained with a sitter.”

David’s disappointment didn’t last as he smushed the berries in his mouth. “Is it Adelina?” 

Moira took a sigh that suggested exasperation. “Alas, she has abandoned us on this day for…”

Johnny interrupted her sentence as he spoke under his breath. “Abandoned is a strong word. She has a day off.”

She didn’t seem to hear his comment and continued reaching back into her memory, unsuccessfully. “It had something to do with fruit salad… and a piñata…”

Moira stopped trying to remember when her attention fell to the weight that pressed against her hip. Alexis had finished her portion of her cereal and fruit. After dropping the empty bowl on the bedspread, the little girl curled her legs under her bottom and leaned into her mother’s side, arms coming to cuddle under her chin as her head nuzzled under her mother’s arm.

Moira found her arm pushed upwards. It hung there, tense in midair, for a moment before she carefully lowered it onto the girl’s back. She used her free hand to continue with her breakfast and allowed her little girl to snuggle. After all, she looked quite comfortable and Moira didn’t want to disturb that.

“Can we play with you until then?” David asked, eyes shifting between his mom and dad.

Moira watched Johnny’s face light up as he lowered his fork. “Sure, son!” His lips curling up on both ends. “What do you want to do?” 

David had a mouthful of juice, so Johnny answered his own question.

“We could… toss a baseball out back,” he posited casually like this wasn’t the first thing that came to his mind. “I started playing when I was your age in Hebrew school.”

David’s indifferent reaction was obviously not what Johnny wanted or expected. The little boy seemed to shrug off the suggestion as he took another mouth full of cereal.

“Or!” Moira exclaimed, drawing the attention back to her. She wracked her brain for something she wanted to do that might also entertain her two children. “We could experiment with eye shadows to see which hues feature us best.”

This was the reaction that Johnny wanted. David bounced on his knees as he licked some of the fruit juice off his fingers. “Yeah, I like that choice!”

“Me too!” Alexis vaulted to her feet as she fed off her brother’s excitement.

“Brilliant!” Moira met their smile with her own as she raised her shoulders. She decided she was done with her breakfast, suddenly feeling invigorated to start her day. Sliding her legs out from her tray she pulled her daughter with her and set the girl down on her own two legs. David was quick to follow them, crawling across the bed and sliding down. 

Moira called back to the last Rose member. “John, are you ready?”

He shrugged, pressing his lips together as he readied himself for an interesting morning. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

And with that, he followed his family to his wife’s bathroom vanity, ready for whatever they threw at him. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have reached the end! This epilogue more closely parallels the song this story is named after. I always interpreted the lines as "Will you still love me when I'm no longer young, beautiful, and rich?" 
> 
> Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me and for your kind words! I don't have anything else in the works, but let me know if you have a story idea that might spark my muse.
> 
> Enjoy!

Epilogue- 2010

Hot summer night, mid-July. The exceedingly grand estate shown bright that night. Not just in physical illumination, but in recognization and ostentation. A dazzling splendor. It was their night. A glorious crown jewel in their already well-adorned costumes. 

Rewinding time a year would have shown a sold sign in the front lawn of the Bel-Air mansion just beside the security gate. During that year, trucks, vans, cars, every automobile that carried a construction worker was let through the gates. Renovations rarely went smoothly, and neither did this one. The same contractors came back multiple times to redo a project at the request of the owners. New ideas would spark and old ideas were thrown out. It became a revolving door of comings and going’s. Day after day, month after month, until it was perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

The city lights from nearby LA could be seen from a corner of the estate. But anyone at the party would swear they didn’t hold a candle to the effects covering the outdoor portico. Strobes, neons, spots, backlighting, uplighting, it was all incorporated adeptly to create an atmosphere of glamour, society, and, most importantly, wealth.

The grand colonnade was the main gathering space. Even if they wanted to, no guest could have observed the intricate tile that covered the patio because the large crowd of partiers had claimed their dance spot. The DJ spun tracks that held the crowd in his trance. The alcohol helped with that too, for sure. The music and the lights grew stronger through the night, leading to a crescendo that never died down. Other guests found their merriment in the adjoining amenities; the large pool, the tennis courts, the gardens, or the full open bar not far from the dance floor.

If it was even possible, the inside was even more crowded. Every lightbulb possible was glowing, reflecting off the priceless gems and brilliant diamonds that moved about the space. The whole ground floor was open for entertainment, most notably the gilded grand foyer that held the most exquisite Swarovski crystal chandelier with colorful, angelic frescos painted around the intricately carved and domed ceiling. The pattered marbled floor led to the marbled staircase with heaping pillars and rails that lead to the upstairs balcony-designed hallway. 

If that entranceway didn’t impress, the ballroom off to the right certainly would. Passing through the 10-foot columns, led into an 80-foot long arena-like space. Grecian columns were featured against the crimson fabric-lined walls. This is where the shining grand piano held some entertained for hours. Their ears were graced by the likes of Bono, Tina Turner, Bruce Springsteen, Celine Dion, and, the feature act, their hostess for the evening. 

The billiard room was popping with games and chatter, the dining room featured groaning tables, food prepared only by the best chefs, and the library provided a semi-quiet, almost-private retreat for a lovers rendezvous. 

The splendor of the event screamed to the world; The Roses had arrived.

It was impossible to tell the time, especially with his eyes closed. He found himself in a slumped position on a sofa somewhere in his house. He didn’t know where yet, didn’t have enough time to memorize the floor plan let alone walk through the 60,000 square foot building. He loosened his tie. He didn’t need to open his eyes to do that. His occupied hand raised, a rolled smoke coming to his lips as he inhaled. 

A clomping sound reached his ears from a distance away. His eyes opened. It seemed that he was sitting in one end of the ballroom. And if he squinted, he could see a shape moving towards him that swayed a lot like his wife.

“Where were you?” His foggy voice inquired.

She came closer before answering, taking long slow strides that suggested she was only wearing one heel. “Playing hostess. Seeing the last of our guests out.” The single heel clomp stopped when the voice was beside him. “Where were you is the better inquiry? And why didn’t you include me.”

His eyes scanned up her body. Her ebony black, completely feathered dress frilled to her knees and almost looked like it floated around her. The top black bodice was just as covered in jewels as the dress part was in feathers. Her blonde curled wig also looked like she had visited the aviary with a feathered headpiece that looked like a roosting nest. 

Her ruby red lips and black lined eyes seemed to be telling him something. He followed her gaze to his occupied hand that held the smoking item.

“Eli brought some,” he shared as he offered the joint up to her.

“Good on Elias,” she praised as she lowered herself beside him. Her hands shook at the offered drug. “No… I have lipstick.”

He understood that code. Taking a substantial drag, he tilted his head, letting her waft in his exhale. His eyes closed again after that, drowsy from the alcohol, grass, and lack of sleep.

He heard her sigh in satisfaction. Then he felt her shuffling beside him, eventually placing her weighted head face up on his lap. His eyes cracked again to take in her now wig-less head, natural hair strewn with flyaways, eyes contently closed, wig and hairpiece hanging precariously off her dangling fingers, and legs suspended off the far armrest.

Her last heel clanged to the ground as her chin jutted up, her free hand coming to pet her stretched neck. “Should I get a facelift?”

He scrunched his eyes. “Did the drugs kick in that fast?”

She continued, fingers dancing across the lines in her face. “Botox? Something for my eye wrinkles.”

“No, keep them where they are.” he insisted, his own hand wrapping around her wrist and removing it from its needless exploration. “You’re as young and beautiful as the first day I laid eyes on you.”

She sighed, letting him puppeteer. “Okay.” Another breath puffed out through her lips as her cheeks ballooned quite unattractively. She took the momentum from the exhale to turn her body so it was facing out. Her arms and legs curled closer to her body, her chest cradling the hairpieces. “Should we be getting ready for bed, Mr. Rose?” A yawn escaped in the next inhale. “It’s past midnight.”

He opened the slits where his eyes were. “Sweetheart, look out there.” His free hand with the Rolex watch raised to point to the window directly in front of them and completely across the room. “See that bright stuff.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he assumed she opened her eyes as she let out a whine and snuggled her head against his legs. “I don’t like it, John. Turn it off.”

“That’s called the sun.” He informed. “It’s morning.”

That made no difference to her. “Make it go away,” she instructed seriously.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he answered as he made no move to do anything about it. Instead, he took one last drag and flicked the stub on the table beside them. 

Now with two free hands, he let them rest against her hip, brushing the feathers every once in a while, and her hairline, fingers stroking some of the wisps down. “So, you like the house?”

“Innumerously,” she nodded before elaborating. “To my surprise, it turned out even better than the Wahlberg estate.” There was an obvious mix of both pride and snobbery in her voice. “Or it certainly hosts a better party.”

He agreed with a snicker. “And it’s bigger than the Kennedy compound, thank goodness.”

“Certainly more functional than Clooney’s Italian villa.” Her face contorted just thinking about the uncoordinated functions she attended there. “Dear Cynthia Lauper even commented on the sumptuousness outdoor light spectacular.”

He let his body settle further into the couch as his head tilted back to rest against the gold trim. “We should host a Christmas Eve party here.”

She hummed an agreement. “The Aurelian accents would certainly create the correct ambiance.” Her alliteration seemed to be off the charts when she was this inebriated. 

“We should do that,” he confirmed in a voice that seemed to solidify that decision. “You know what we should also do?” He paused as his mind caught up to his mouth. “We should play tennis,”

If that request was out in left field, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Not now, John,” she simply sighed, content to continue to lie there.

A new body entered the room from the other end of the hall, his Rick Owens squeaking against the marble as he turned. He walked closer in a practiced nonchalant swagger, his tight black pants swishing. His right hand, adorned with a chunky ring, guided a large rolling case that almost matched the chevron pattern of his black and white sweater.

Johnny felt Moira’s head shift as she evidently opened her eyes to a confusing sight. “Whose there?” She croaked out. “And why haven’t they left yet?”

Their son circled his head as his dark orbs eyed her incredulously. “Hi, Mom. I live here, too,” he sassed, his voice dripping with natural sarcasm. 

“David!” Johnny exclaimed as he too realized who’s hip was popped and beveled before them. “You wanna play tennis?”

David’s head jutted back, pausing a moment to comprehend what he just heard. “Um… Good Morning to you too,” was his chosen response to the question. David had a question of his own as he saw the evidence on the side table. “Are you high?”

Moira snickered a high pitched giggle that ended in a throaty croak while Johnny answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “It got pretty exciting after you went to bed.”

“Story of your life, David!” The fourth member of the Rose family made her bubbly presence know as she walked in behind her brother. Her straight hair was pulled back in a low pony with some flyaways framing her face and the dangling, beaded earrings. The sheer, floral peach fabric from her strapless dress flowed into her waist before draping in an asymmetrical pattern that ended just above her knees.

She gave her brother a smug look as her chin protruded towards him as her lips curled under her teeth.

“Um…” David defended. “I went to bed at midnight like the responsible adult my parents didn’t raise me to be.”

“Sounds like someone had a sad little night…” Alexis disparaged as she shifted her weight to her right leg and flipped her wrist. “I guess not all of us could have a seriously intense make-out session in the pool house with Robert Patterson.” She smirked, keenly aware of the reaction that was happening before her.

“Stop! Why would you…” David bent over as a disgusted face overtook him. “You know I’m team, Edward!” 

She reveled in her brag for a moment before speaking again, her head flipping her ponytail to her shoulder as her fingers came up to play with the strands. “Actually he told me that he’s team Jacob, so… I don’t think it would have worked out between you two anyway.”

That opinion did nothing to de-escalate him. “You’re VERY lucky we’re blood-related,” he raised his voice and emphasized his point with a point of his finger. 

“I’m so glad you acknowledge that now, David.” Her eyes tilted to casually glance at her hair. “After all the trouble you went through to get that DNA test when you were convinced you were adopted.”

He paused, lips parted while he formulated his comeback. “That’s strong talk coming from the ‘oops baby.’”

“David,” Moira spoke up, raising her head slightly before lowering it again. “Don’t be cruel to your sister. You were just as much an ‘oopsie daisy’ as she was.”

“What?” Their firstborn exclaimed in surprise just as Johnny chided, “Moira,” and Alexis’ smirk grew with a “Burn, David.”

David swerved his body back to his sister, his sass now off the charts. “Well, I think the second favorite child needs to find her own ride now? Thank you so much."

Johnny didn’t care one fig about their spat but followed up on one thing he overheard. “Where’re you off to?” He asked as his eyes opened a little wider, entering the cognizant world a little more.

Alexis turned to him with an innocent countenance she had mastered with years of dedicated practice. “I’m going with David to the airport before my rendezvous with Demi Lovato in Capri where we’re going to talk smack on Selena Gomez.”

Johnny listened but didn’t store her words in his memory bank. “And you, son?”

“Back to New York…” he shared as if that should be obvious. “Where I live when I’m not taking advantage of these amenities.”

New York, Johnny thought to himself. Yes, where David had a job. His own job. And Alexis, the social butterfly, was off exploring the world and building her social network. “Great… wonderful…” Johnny grinned as he nodded in approval. His hands raised, palms up, towards them. “Both our children out living their lives. Hey,” he began as his eyes lit up. “Take the plane kids, I insist.”

“Um… I didn’t think we had to ask.” David muttered at the same time Alexis lipped. “That’s what we’re doing. Were you listening?”

“Okay then.” His proud grin and a raise of his hand waved them off as both children’s backs turned. “Have fun!” 

They were almost to the other end of the ballroom before Johnny bounced his knee. “Moira, the kids are leaving.”

She strained her neck as her arm waved her wig after them. “Farewell my offspring! And may you thrive in all your endeavors!”

“Okay, byeee,” Alexis cried in a nasal voice that complimented David’s mumbled “Bye,” under his breath.

Johnny watched as David rolled his bag through the length of the room and as Alexis strutted alongside him. Her two cases were waiting near the other side and she barely missed a beat in rolling them along as they both disappeared around the corner. 

He waited. The sound of shuffling in the foyer continued until the solid pound of the front door. And then silence.

“You still have me, darling!” His wife assured, reading his mind and the feelings of loss he had as the two adults walked out. He felt her fingernail scratch a light pattern against his knee. “For better or worse.”

Yes, he still had her. He finished the line in his head, ‘For richer or poorer…” 

“They’ll be okay, right?” Johnny asked quietly.

The head in his lap let out a sigh before answering softly. “Of course. They’re grown adults now.”

“I know but…” He paused as he searched for the right words. “They didn’t stay kids for long.”

“I’d say it was an appropriate amount of time,” his wife decided very quickly.

It seemed like just yesterday he was holding young David in his arms and dreaming about the life that little boy would have. Or when they found out they were pregnant with Alexis and how delighted he was to learn it was a little girl. He remembered planning all the things he would teach his kids, important things like how to throw a ball, how to drive a car, how to get a first job, how to ride a bike… Well, he attempted that last one, but that didn’t turn out well. Where had the time gone and how did he miss everything?

“What’s happening in there, Mr. Rose?” The voice in his lap asked. He turned his chin down to see that she had turned once again to her back, her shining eyes staring into his. “Empires have been toppled with lesser thoughts.”

He blinked back into the real world, his thoughts now far away, remaining private. 

She was waiting for an answer. His mind reeled with something to say. His mouth opened.

“I’ve decided to promote Eli to the Business Manager position.”


End file.
